


and we'll stumble through heaven

by AgentOfShip, lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Jemma Simmons Has No Chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOfShip/pseuds/AgentOfShip, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: When she goes undercover at HYDRA, Jemma almost immediately bites off more than she can chew. She’s saved by a HYDRA agent named Lance Hunter who agrees to go on a date instead of turning her in. Their single date into more at the behest of Hunter’s supervisor, Mr. Bakshi, and soon Jemma’s caught in a tangle of lust, love, and duty. One night reveals the truth about Hunter, shattering everything Jemma thought she knew – maybe beyond repair.
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 82
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a project for the WIP Big Bang 2020! Art in chapter 4 by the illustrious @AgentOfShip, and beta for the whole work by @LibbyWeasley, both of whom I love with all my heart <3

Jemma Simmons was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. no more.

Or at least, that was what she had to pretend.

Light streamed in through the windows in the atrium of The Aquarium, HYDRA’s not-so-secret secret lab facility where she would be employed for the foreseeable future, and Jemma’s high heels clicked ominously against the slick marble floor. What was strange about The Aquarium was that it _wasn’t_ strange - it looked like every other lab she had been in, save for the giant octopus emblazoned on the front desk.

“Hello,” she said as she approached the receptionist. “Dr. Jemma Simmons. I’m here for orientation?”

The man nodded and handed her a visitor’s badge, pointing her to the elevator bay with instructions on how to meet her orientation instructor. 

The elevator, like everything else in the building, was monochrome and absolutely spotless. Jemma’s eyes flicked surreptitiously until she found the camera in the elevator. It was well-hidden, just a pinprick of black at the joint of the marble-white wall and ceiling, but paranoia and hypervigilance were on Jemma’s side. The camera would be simple enough to blind if she ever needed to - globe cameras refracted laser lights easily and there was a perfect divot in the corner where she could install a laser pointer. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to get up to anything nefarious in the elevator, though.

When the door slid open, depositing her on the correct floor, Jemma’s jaw dropped.

The lab spread before her was like nothing she’d ever seen before, even at the Academy. If it wasn’t being used to support an organization Jemma found morally reprehensible, she might have even called it beautiful. The sea of lab tables were equipped with state-of-the-art equipment, far from the scuffed and second-hand equipment she was sure they were using at S.H.I.E.L.D. after being forced underground.

She craned her neck as she passed by the bank of lab tables, but as expected a visual inspection didn’t give her much to go on. When she received the briefing from her orientation instructor she’d learn more about her individual project, and she was certain office gossip would allow her to learn more about others’ work as well.

The office she had been instructed to go to had its door ajar, and Jemma rapped on it to announce her presence.

“Ah! You must be Dr. Simmons!” The man behind the desk had a round face with even rounder spectacles perched on the end of his nose, and he shuffled the papers on his desk into a pile with one hand as he used the other to beckon her in. 

“Yes, that’s me.” She offered the man - Dr. Stewart - a tentative smile. They had been corresponding via email since Jemma’s resumé had been accepted, but it was still difficult to reconcile the kindly-looking man with the values HYDRA espoused.

“Shut the door, shut the door,” he said, finishing with his organization. Jemma did as she was told before perching herself in the seat across from Dr. Stewart’s desk.

“I must say, Dr. Simmons, I was surprised someone of your caliber and with your history was interested in working for our organization.” Dr. Stewart steepled his fingers, cocking his head at her. It was an obvious leading question, and Jemma was more than prepared to answer it.

“My history has nothing to do with my interest in HYDRA,” she said crisply. “My loyalties have been and always will be to science, first and foremost. The training I received with my former employer was simply a means to an end.”

“And are we a means to an end for you, Dr. Simmons?”

“Of course.” No use in lying about it, even if Dr. Stewart was probably imagining something different with his question. He thought she just wanted money for research, when her real purpose was decidedly less kind to HYDRA. “But as I told you in my interview, I don’t believe HYDRA’s influence will wane in the foreseeable future, and I need influence to get where I wish to be.” She didn’t understand why Stewart was still questioning her; she had been vetted by all of HYDRA’s internal hiring committees, and across the course of her application been assured several times her past with S.H.I.E.L.D. would be a non-issue, given how many of HYDRA’s other personnel, agents and scientists alike, had previously been a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“I appreciate your candor. May I show you around?”

Jemma’s shoulders relaxed when Dr. Stewart exited his office and began the exhaustive tour of the facilities. She’d be spending her time almost entirely in the open-air lab she had walked past on the way to his office. Much to Jemma’s chagrin, she wouldn’t be leading her own project; she’d be working under Stewart on his project for at least the first month, her first time working under a primary investigator since she’d finished her thesis several years ago. It was going to be an adjustment, but having to take orders was far from the bitterest pill she’d had to swallow.

“Of course, you’re welcome to look at the labs on other floors as well,” Dr. Stewart said as they finished the tour of the main floor. “Private offices are, as the name implies, private, and the elevator won’t let you go past floor five without the proper credentials. We’ll have your permanent badge ready for you at the reception desk tomorrow morning, so you should have no trouble getting in.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said with a smile she hoped didn’t look forced. “Would you mind terribly introducing me to the others on your team?”

“Of course not!” Dr. Stewart circled back to the lab benches, and began introducing Jemma individually to each of his team members. Jemma was still struck by how _normal_ they all seemed - cordial smiles, warm handshakes, no obvious Nazi iconography. There was that giant squid on the wall on her way up, but…

“And that’s all we need you for today,” Dr. Stewart said when they were finished. Honestly, most of the names had slipped Jemma’s mind thanks to her focus on other aspects of the conversation.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Jemma said, smiling brightly as she returned to the elevator. 

That really hadn’t been so bad - but it was also just her first day.

\---

It took Jemma all of three more days to realize the worst part about working under a PI wasn’t having to answer to someone else - it was how utterly _boring_ Stewart’s research was. She hadn’t a clue what HYDRA was looking for in studying carbohydrate decomposition in bacteria. Jemma had expected something interesting, like biotoxins or mutagenesis. Sugar processing didn’t scream evil secret organization, at least to her.

Her labmates continued to be… well, there. It was different than working in a lab with Fitz, where she would fire off ideas and he would immediately retort with a different viewpoint or theory or at least a pithy one-liner. Her coworkers were all committed to being the kind of people who worked for HYDRA: interminably uninteresting, their bland personalities only offset by even blander, generically attractive features.

(One of her coworkers looked almost exactly like Ward when she saw him out of the corner of her eye, and every time Jemma had to resist the itch to punch him.)

It was for the better none of her coworkers were actually people Jemma was interested in spending time with; she didn’t need anyone getting too close and taking a look into her private life, which only contained secret communications with S.H.I.E.L.D. and not much else. 

The positive of having exactly zero friends was her ability to work as late as she pleased, which of course leant itself to her role as a spy. Coulson had told her to be careful, not to stick her neck out too far too soon, but it was Friday night and the building was practically empty. Her newness also meant she had an airtight alibi for being any place she ought not to - _I got lost_.

Fifteen minutes after the last person left the lab, Jemma opened the drawer to her desk and withdrew the lockpicking kit she kept hidden in the back, underneath a pile of papers. She was looking into creating a secret compartment somewhere in the desk drawer, but hadn’t had the time yet to surreptitiously take measurements and figure out the necessary modifications. 

Jemma unrolled the leather case of the kit, selected the tools she estimated to be the correct size, and took off down the hallway of offices for the upper-level investigators. Most of them were labelled with names, but there was one office without a nameplate, begging the question of who (or what) was inside. Jemma had thought at first it was just extra space for whoever next moved into the organization, but earlier in the week she’d gone to ask Stewart a question and found his office empty. Ten minutes later he’d emerged from the unmarked room looking worse for the wear. It seemed HYDRA-esque to have an interrogation room in the middle of a lab space; they didn’t seem to care much for organization except for when it allowed them to project the illusion of power.

Working in a lab meant she had virtually unlimited access to latex gloves, and Jemma donned a pair when she approached the door, just out of an abundance of caution. She checked the knob on the door just in case providence smiled upon her, but it was predictably locked. Jemma took a deep breath, withdrew the lockpick, and began to work. Squatting in front of a locked door under the fluorescent lighting made her feel oddly exposed, but the corridors were echoey enough Jemma trusted she’d hear someone before they saw her.

Picking a lock had been much easier when her adrenaline wasn’t pumping so hard; Jemma’s hands kept shaking and ruining her work, and the additional barrier of the latex made the tools slip and slide more than she was used to. Her hands were beginning to sweat in her gloves, and Jemma considered giving up when she heard the telltale quiet click of a tumbler slipping into place.

She began working with renewed vigor, but speed wasn’t her friend. One of the tools slipped out of her hand and clattered to the tile floor. Jemma huffed, bending to grab it, when she heard it - _footsteps_. 

She peeled off her gloves and stuffed them into one pocket while sliding the tools into the other. She stood awkwardly, her knees and thighs protesting her squatting for so long, and took off in what she hoped was the opposite direction of the footsteps.

Jemma rounded a corner but didn’t allow herself to relax yet. If she could get back to Stewart’s office, she’d have plausible deniability for being in the area.

The only trouble was, she didn’t know how to get back to Stewart’s office.

The footsteps hadn’t stopped, so Jemma forced herself to keep walking despite her disorientation.

“Hello?”

Jemma turned when she heard the voice, and mentally cursed. The owner of the footsteps was a straight shot down the hallway from her, which meant she couldn’t make a break for it now. She halted and turned back to face the man, pasting a smile on her face. 

“Hello. I seem to be a bit lost.”

“Lost,” the man repeated, breaking into a half-jog so he could close the space between them. “Is that really what you’re going to go with?” Before Jemma could ask what he meant, the man held up a slim metal rod. Jemma paled - she had picked up the dropped tool, so what was it doing in his hand?

“I…” _Think, Simmons._ Despite all the training she’d had before going undercover, lying still remained one of Jemma’s weakest points, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to rescue this situation.

“How about you tell me why you were trying to get into a locked room, and I’ll think about letting you off easy.”

“You’re British,” Jemma blurted. “I’m British.”

“Yes, love, I could tell.” The man smirked at her, and it was unfair, really, because he was _handsome_ , and the smirk drove it home. The spray of stubble across his cheeks and chin gave him a roguish appearance entirely at odds with his buzzcut, tight black uniform, and military-grade steel-toed boots. “Was that your attempt at misdirection?”

“Uh…” Once again Jemma couldn’t muster anything coherent to say, and she would swear it had nothing to do with the glint in the man’s hazel eyes when he continued appraising her.

“This is normally the part where people insist they’re innocent.” Had he just winked at her?

“I thought you weren’t supposed to lie to the police.”

The man laughed. “I’m not the police. Just private security.”

“Are you asking me to lie to you?”

“No, I’m asking you to tell me your name so I can have something for my security report.” 

“You’ve already looked at my badge, haven’t you?” There was no other reason his eyes would’ve flicked to her chest.

“Call it an opportunity to establish yourself as an upstanding employee.”

“Dr. Jemma Simmons. I work on this floor.” Jemma thrust out her hand, and to her surprise, the man took it, shaking firmly.

“Lance Hunter, no doctor. I don’t work on this floor.” 

_Then why are you here?_ Jemma wanted to ask. Instead she kept her mouth shut so she wouldn’t make an even greater fool of herself.

“I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, Dr. Simmons,” Lance said, extending her dropped tool. Jemma took it tentatively, but there was no ‘gotcha!’ moment. She didn’t put it back in her pocket, not wanting to betray the location of the rest of her instruments. 

“Excellent. Then you can just let me go.” She doubted that would be the case, but Jemma would hate herself if she didn’t at least try to get out easy.

Lance laughed, the movement showing off the sharp cut of his jaw. Not that Jemma was looking at him - it was _just_ an anatomical observation. “No, I don’t think I can.”

“What if I make it worth your while?” Oh god, oh god, _why_ had she just said that?

Lance’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Worth my while?” He was just short of scoffing at her.

“I could go on a date with you.” Jemma fought down the blush threatening to overwhelm her cheeks. Lance looking at her like she was crazy wasn’t helping this matter whatsoever.

“You’ve really been watching too many films,” he said dubiously. “What makes you think a fine specimen such as myself doesn’t already have a lady friend?”

“The fact you call them _lady friends_ ,” Jemma answered drily, glad words had finally come easily.

“And how does you going on a date with me relate to you possibly trying to break into a room in the building I am employed to protect?” Lance asked after a long pause. Evidently he had failed to come up with a retort about his ability to woo women.

“Character reference.” Jemma’s heart wasn’t pounding quite as loud now that she had a handle on the situation. At least Lance seemed to be considering letting her off scot-free this time.

“Give me your phone number, then.”

“Excuse me?” Jemma squeaked.

“If we’re going to go on a date,” Lance said, “then I need your phone number. Since I assume you don’t keep your social calendar on-hand when committing corporate espionage.”

“I’m not -!” Jemma huffed, then decided starting another argument with Hunter probably wasn’t the best strategy. She waited for him to get his mobile out, then rattled off her number, glad Coulson had forced her to memorize the number she had gotten with her new phone. The old one was still at the Playground, though Jemma doubted anyone was trying to contact her. Not after the way she’d left.

“Excellent.” Lance grinned, but Jemma couldn’t find anything sadistic or feral about it - not the way Ward would’ve looked if he was in the same situation. “I hope you know, this sort of thing doesn’t normally work on me. I’m just interested to see where you’re going with this.”

 _Me too._ Jemma had gone so off the cuff that now she was left without any guide whatsoever. Seduction hadn’t been covered in her crash course to prepare for infiltrating HYDRA, and Jemma wasn’t even sure she was supposed to seduce Lance. Maybe it was just enough to make him believe she was an upstanding citizen devoted to the cause?

“Do you need an escort out?” Lance asked. Jemma had a feeling he was really saying _I’m going to escort you out now_ , but it was far from the first unsaid words in their conversation. 

He took them through a hallway Jemma didn’t even know existed, back to the elevator bay. Jemma sighed - in addition to creating a secret compartment in her desk, she needed to figure out a map of the facility if she was going to be at all effective in her position.

The elevator arrived at the main lobby, but Jemma was stopped from exiting by a firm hand on her wrist.

“You should be careful, Dr. Simmons.” Lance’s voice had dropped and darkened to something she didn’t recognize, his eyes severe and stormy. “Not everyone is going to let you off with just banter and agreeing to go on a date.” He released her arm, but the threat of what he still could do to her hung between them for the long moment before she stepped out of the elevator. Lance didn’t follow.

Even when she was back in the safety of her apartment, Jemma couldn’t shake the cold settled around her shoulders. Lance had seemed fine - nice, even - until that very last moment in the elevator, and agreeing to go on a date with him hadn’t seemed like a bad idea at all. But he worked for HYDRA, and she had learned the hard way looks could be deceiving when it came to the octopi.

Hopefully giving him her phone number didn’t turn out to be a mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

Jemma’s day didn’t begin like she expected it to.

 _Hunter_ was sitting on her lab bench.

He had insisted on being called Hunter the moment she had first uttered his forename on their date three days ago. The date itself hadn’t been disastrous, but it hadn’t been spectacular, either - mostly bland questions and trite answers and the overwhelming feeling of going through the motions. If it wasn’t a repayment for getting caught, Jemma probably never would’ve considered a second one. She almost felt she owed Hunter something, though, for being so willing to accept her unorthodox bribe. That he had shown up at her desk seemed to indicate he agreed.

“Good morning, Jemma.” She had been equally insistent about her choice in name. It was always Dr. Simmons this, Dr. Simmons that. She was going to forget she was a human if she didn’t hear her actual name every once in a while.

“Good morning,” she answered crisply. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Business and not pleasure, I’m afraid,” Hunter grinned again, the smile Jemma couldn’t decipher. She expected something in his smile to be different - he was a HYDRA agent, but he smiled easily, like he wasn’t worried about anything in the world beyond smiling.

Jemma wondered if she’d ever looked like that.

“Tell me, love, have you heard of Mr. Bakshi?”

Jemma’s focus sharpened. She _had_ heard of Bakshi, but not in the way Hunter was probably expecting. He was the right-hand of Daniel Whitehall, whose experimentation she was ultimately here to discover more about. There was something not quite right with what was happening at the Aquarium, and Whitehall was at the center of it all.

“I have, yes. What of him?”

“Well, my nighttime gig might be patrolling the corridors, but most days, I’m with him. Bodyguard, you know, since he’s so important. HYDRA doesn’t like when its playthings get broken.”

Jemma nearly gasped with how nonchalantly Hunter spoke, calling Bakshi a _plaything_. Surely that was dangerous?

Then again, Hunter didn’t seem to care much about danger. Maybe that was what had gotten him tangled up with HYDRA and Bakshi in the first place.

“He asked me about you,” Hunter said bluntly. Jemma didn’t ask why she had come up in their conversation; she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “He’s invested in the idea of you and I remaining together. Or getting together, rather. He seems to think one date makes us practically engaged, but I digress.” Hunter cleared his throat and leaned in - close enough for Jemma to see each of his eyelashes individually, perfectly framing the green-brown-gold of his eyes. 

“Bakshi wants to give you your own lab. A nice private one, with some underlings you can boss around and an office you can… what do you science types do in your offices?”

“Science comes with paperwork,” Jemma answered, though that seemed rather unimportant considering she had been at HYDRA for all of a _week_ and Sunil Bakshi was interested in her personally. “But… why? Why is he doing this?” It seemed suspicious, and whatever story Hunter was about to spin her… the equally likely possibility was Hunter had told Bakshi the truth about their first encounter, and Bakshi was moving her to keep a closer eye on her.

Hunter looked around warily, but found her coworkers all buzzing outside of easy hearing. When he spoke, it was slow and choppy, as if he was still piecing things together himself. Jemma’s theory about it being a ploy by Bakshi to keep her underfoot seemed markedly less plausible with the slow explanation, but she wasn’t ruling it out entirely. “All any of them are interested in is power. Bakshi included. He knows he has me as his man, but one bodyguard does not build an empire.” Hunter’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Jemma tried her best not to stare at his mouth too long.

“If you’re loyal to me, and I’m loyal to him, he assumes he has your loyalty by proxy.” Hunter held up a hand to stop her from immediately protesting. “He thinks we like each other, Jemma, and it’s favorable for both of us if he continues to think that. Bakshi also assumes we’re in this for the long haul, for some godforsaken reason - but again, isn’t it better if we let him?” He paused to let his words sink in, and Jemma had to admit Hunter made a good point. “What you’ll learn, love, is that it’s best not to question the people who give you what you want. Everyone has something they want from you, but not everyone will give you something in return.”

“What do you want from me?” Jemma asked steadily.

“I want you to say yes to Bakshi. For both our sakes.”

“And if I say no?”

“He knows you don’t trust him. Which he won’t hold against you, since no one trusts anyone, but… It’s better not to tell people that to their faces.” Hunter shrugged. He was so casual about all of this, as if the politics within HYDRA were second-nature to him. He’d never mentioned how long he’d been at the organization and Jemma hadn’t asked, but if she had to guess, it would be years. How else could Bakshi not question Hunter’s loyalty whatsoever? How could someone become unquestionably loyal to Bakshi just by being loyal to Hunter?

“I’d be a fool to say no, wouldn’t I?” Jemma asked, more to herself than to Hunter. Being closer to Bakshi in any way would help her get closer to completing her mission. Hunter was an additional variable, one she would need to account for going forward, but he could also be an asset when everything was over. Looking like she was making connections in HYDRA would be good if anyone decided to launch an investigation into her allegiances. Working on her own project was the cherry on top of what looked to be the perfect sundae - if it wasn’t all a ploy to get her fired for her attempted break-in.

“Yes, you would be,” Hunter agreed. “So is that a yes?”

Jemma looked him in the eye, swallowed hard, and nodded.

“Excellent. Come with me.”

“What - now?”

“Yes, now.” Hunter said, jumping off her lab bench. “Come on. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Jemma had no choice but to follow Hunter. He took her to the elevator, and she bit back a comment about how they always ended up there. He punched the button for the fifth floor - the highest floor anyone could access without additional authorization. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Hunter led her through twisting hallways, and into… an empty lab.

“Bakshi’s not here.”

“No, he’s not. But he’s watching.” Hunter’s eyes flicked to one corner of the room, and Jemma didn’t need to follow them to know there was a camera there. She wondered where its blindspots were, if it even had blindspots.

“This computer,” Hunter said, walking over to one of the nearby lab benches to a sleek-looking monitor, “has access to all personnel records in the science division for the next forty-eight hours. Tap who you want to tap, but keep it reasonable. Bakshi’s already being more than generous.”

Jemma would’ve kept her lab size small even without the additional warning; the fewer people who were there to give her trouble or find a flaw in her cover, the better.

“Do you have any ideas for what you’d like to research? For my report to Bakshi.”

“Gene editing,” Jemma said immediately. It was a topic she was genuinely interested in, but it also seemed to fit well with HYDRA’s propensity for researching ethically questionable materials. Not that gene editing was inherently unethical, but… it wasn’t difficult to imagine how the technology could be used in less savory ways.

“Excellent. And when would you like our next date to be?”

Right. Continuing to date Hunter was part of the agreement.

“Surprise me.”

“That’s a dangerous game to play, Dr. Simmons.” Hunter’s eyes glinted teasingly.

“Perhaps I like a bit of danger.”

Hunter snorted. “I don’t think you’d like my kind of danger, love.”

Jemma arched an eyebrow. She’d never been good at backing down from challenges, least of all when they questioned her competence. “I guess we won’t know until we try, will we?”

“I guess not.” 

Before Jemma could react, Hunter swooped in and pressed a firm kiss to her mouth, his lips searing against hers. Jemma couldn’t even manage a surprised sound - she just froze.

Then he was looking at her with that _stupid_ smile again. “See you when I see you, love.”

Hunter was out of the lab before Jemma could think of anything to say in return.

\---

When Jemma woke up soaked in sweat and with a pillow between her legs, she knew something had to be done.

Hunter had taken her on a date to a paintball arena, which had been charming, if only because he thought paintball was dangerous. Jemma knew bragging about her actual experience in firefights wouldn’t do her any favors in seeming a demure scientist, though, and had allowed him to showboat all he wanted. He was a good shot, that much she’d had to admit.

What she hadn’t admitted was how the adrenaline of the situation had aroused her. It wasn’t typical for Jemma - normally after being stressed in any way she wanted a long nap and time to sort out her brain, not more sensory input, but Hunter seemed determined to change all her patterns.

He alarmed her. Not just with how she was unable to predict him, but with how she was unable to predict her _reaction_ to him. Jemma couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen someone and wanted to fall into bed with them just because they were there. It seemed the universe hated her, because her libido’s newest fixation was not a good person.

Someone didn’t have to be a good person to be a good lay, though.

Jemma’s hand crept down her stomach and settled between her thighs, the tip of her middle finger grazing the wet spot on the crotch of her panties. If it was just a fantasy, no one would have to know - not Coulson, and not even Hunter himself. Jemma was excellent at compartmentalization, so of course she could make sure it remained just a fantasy.

It wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t be wrong.

She slid her hand down further, a long breath shaking out of her when her fingers slid over her clit. It felt nice even through the cotton of her underwear, but the desire squirming through her stomach was still enough to turn back from, if she wanted to. Jemma didn’t want to, though. She’d never imagined finding herself desiring sexual gratification at HYDRA, not when she feared for her life, and it had been too long since she’d had an orgasm.

Her mind strayed to Hunter, and what he’d think of the situation. He’d probably grin at her the way she loved to hate, cocky as hell. She’d let him smile at her, though, as long as he promised to put his mouth to a different use when he was done.

What would his mouth be like? His lips were warm when he’d kissed her, but that was all Jemma had processed before he’d walked away. His mouth had certainly _looked_ soft, but Jemma couldn’t reconcile Lance Hunter with any sort of softness - not his lips, not his tongue, not his cock.

Oh god, his _cock_. It was the one thing about him Jemma had absolutely no data on, and it was going to drive her insane. She could imagine it a hundred different ways, but most of them were likely to be incorrect. Her breath quickened to pants, and dizziness rushed through her. Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, a whimper escaping between her heavy breaths as she rubbed herself harder. The cotton was wetter now, catching roughly on her clit when she circled the tender bundle of nerves.

She needed to see Hunter’s cock. She needed to know how it looked when it was soft and how it changed when it was hard, how long it was and how big around. She needed to know how it’d feel inside her, how quickly it could make her cum.

Jemma bit down on her lip, waiting for her swelling pleasure to tip her over the edge, but the moment never came. A frustrated moan pushed through her lips and her hips jolted up into her hand at a particularly hard pass of her fingers.

She wasn’t going to force herself to orgasm, but simultaneously Jemma couldn’t _not_ cum.

Perhaps she just needed something different. If she fingered herself… 

If she fingered herself, she’d pretend they were Hunter’s fingers. How far could she go before fantasy and reality blurred? Already she was going to find it difficult to look Hunter in the eye the next time they saw each other.

Jemma sighed and withdrew her hand so she wouldn’t be tempted. Slowly, she reached for the pillow that’d been between her legs when she’d woken up from her dream. Jemma held it for a moment, wondering if she was really about to do what she wanted to do. A pulse of desire that left her breathless answered her question for her.

She shoved the pillow between her legs before she could overthink it, and began moving her hips. She tried to start slow but Jemma’s body was rebelling, everything in her protesting being held near the edge for too long. The part of Jemma that remained rational - which, admittedly, was not a large part at the moment - wanted to insist the five, maybe ten, minutes she’d spent since waking up weren’t actually that long to wait. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), the rest of her was too desperate to get off to listen.

The plushness of the pillow provided a different resistance when it dragged across her clit, but the difference was far from a bad thing. Soft mewls of pleasure filled the empty bedroom, quickly replaced by broken moans as Jemma once again found an orgasm within reach. She worked her hips faster, groaning in pleasure and wishing there was someone to hear it.

Hunter’s face flashing across her mind’s eye was enough to snap the rubber band inside her, and Jemma yelled a rush of incoherent syllables as she came.

Five minutes later she was much less flushed and no longer panting, but the ache in her pussy seemed to have gotten worse instead of better. Her logical mind had regained control, though, and she wasn’t allowing herself to cum again, _especially_ not when thinking about her fake boyfriend.

If she wasn’t going to masturbate, though, she needed to do something else to keep her mind occupied. Jemma sighed, glancing at her clock. Three in the morning and she was going to take a cold shower while reviewing her action plan for her mission. It would’ve been better if she’d just been able to stay asleep.

But then she wouldn’t have had one of the better orgasms in her life, or a glut of new fantasies for the future.

Jemma sighed, swinging her legs out of bed. She had work to do, and maybe when she woke up for real, she could give herself a reward. Maybe.


	3. Chapter 3

When Hunter pulled the car into the parking lot of the restaurant, all Jemma could do was gape. She’d driven by places like it before, and wondered who the hell had enough money to throw away on a thousand-dollar meal. There was no way she could afford this on her own - and she had a feeling Hunter couldn’t either. A shiver climbed up her spine as he opened her door for her. Jemma didn’t like thinking about Bakshi or how he had a hand in the direction of her dating life.

Hunter held the door open for her, and gave his name - _his_ , not Bakshi’s - to the maitre d’, who smiled serenely before immediately leading them back to a table. Every diner they passed was perfectly coiffed, and despite her formal attire, Jemma felt underdressed. Hunter at least looked the part, his dark suit and tie blending him in seamlessly with the crowd.

She slid into her seat when Hunter pulled it out for her, eyes flicking across the dining room. They were as secluded as they could be in a public space, and she felt her shoulders relax marginally.

“You don’t like it?” Hunter asked as he picked up his menu.

“I don’t belong here,” Jemma said simply. Everything was too pristine, too… stuffy. The place had the same air of sterility as her lab did, but with none of the familiarity. Not to mention, she couldn’t understand _why_ everything had to be so uptight. In her lab, things had to be clean and proper so as not to compromise the science. This place had no reason for its attitude except for to feel superior.

“You and me both.” Hunter cleared his throat, then reached up to loosen his tie a fraction. “I told him you wouldn’t be happy here, but he seems to think you’re a woman of expensive tastes.”

“He thinks he has me figured out,” Jemma stated, eyebrow quirking up. She didn’t know how Bakshi had reached any conclusions about her, since they still had yet to meet. Maybe he was actually watching all the tapes of her lab’s security feed, which was disconcerting.

“Of course he does.” Hunter leaned forward in his seat conspiratorially. “Between you and I, he thinks he’s much smarter than he is.”

Jemma snorted. “Most people do.”

“What about you?” Hunter asked. 

“I’m aware of the limitations of my intelligence, yes.” Jemma frowned as she looked down at the menu, trying not to think of Fitz or how much easier her lab work would be if she had someone to bounce her ideas off of. She hadn’t thought about him since her first day at HYDRA, which felt like a betrayal. “And of course, I’ll never be as physically fit as yourself, so I’m limited in other ways.”

“I think you meant that as a compliment, but I’m rather insulted,” Hunter said mildly.

“I didn’t mean to offend.” 

“Oh, I know.” Hunter met her gaze for a brief moment. “I might look dumber than a brick, but I promise I have the intelligence of at least two bricks.”

A surprised chuckle wormed its way up Jemma’s throat at the joke. “Three bricks, if you understand humor.”

“Maybe even four, since I can read,” Hunter returned. “What looks good to you?”

Jemma hummed noncommittally. “I’m partial to chicken.”

“I’m thinking maybe lobster.” Hunter set his menu down and folded his hands on top of the table. “It’s supposed to be an aphrodisiac, you know.”

“That has more to do with its status as a luxury symbol than any chemical properties,” Jemma informed him. “Why are you looking for aphrodisiacs?” She bit her lip, frantically trying to redirect her memory from anything other than the night she’d spent getting off to thoughts of him. She didn’t succeed. 

“It’s the third date,” Hunter said bluntly. “I’m sure you’re aware of the cultural significance.”

Jemma steadfastly ignored the heat snaking down her throat and settling into the pit of her stomach. “I am, yes.”

“Then you’ll be unsurprised to learn -” Hunter abruptly cut off when a waiter came to take their wine order. Hunter selected one from the list, a red from the mid-twentieth century the waiter insisted was the best they had in-house. 

“I’ll be unsurprised to learn?” Jemma prompted when the waiter was safely out of earshot, though she already had an inkling of how the sentence would end.

“Bakshi is quite interested in me satisfying your every need,” Hunter said. “ _Every_ need,” he repeated, and the chilly dining room suddenly became altogether too warm.

“And how do you feel about that?” What would she do if he said he wanted to have sex with her? Would she be able to say no to him?

Hunter laughed darkly. “Bakshi may think I’m wooing you, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” That was how their relationship had worked so far, in its short time; Hunter took her on dates that weren’t unenjoyable, but were thus far void of romance. Continuing on that path wouldn’t be horrible for either of them, especially if Hunter was assured in his ability to keep Bakshi in the dark.

“Interesting,” was all Jemma said.

Hunter scrutinized her, but ultimately didn’t question her choice of words. He changed the subject to inquire after the project she’d started, and Jemma was all too happy to tell him about it, even if she got the feeling he only understood every third word.

Discussion of her research filled the time up until their food arrived, and Jemma had managed to distract herself from Hunter’s thinly-veiled references to sex and her subsequent reaction to it - right until the moment he licked his lips. He was looking at his food, but Jemma was mesmerized by him and how perfectly kissable he seemed in that moment.

“You’re staring,” Hunter said lightly. How he knew when he wasn’t looking at her, Jemma didn’t know.

“You’re giving me quite a lot to stare at.” The words came out more huskily than she intended, scratching at her throat uncomfortably.

Hunter’s eyes were chips of amber when he turned them on her, smooth and shining with the warm mood lighting of the restaurant. “Is that so?”

 _Is that so._ A man who looked like him had to know he was unfairly beautiful, had to know what kind of effect he had on her. Jemma had been resigned to keeping her attraction to Hunter in her fantsies, but he had been the one to bring up sex, which meant…

What did it mean?

“I would fuck you if you wanted me to,” Jemma whispered.

“Come with me,” Hunter said, abruptly rising from his seat at the table.

“Where are we -?”

“Come with me,” Hunter repeated, voice sliding into a snarl.

Jemma had no choice but to take his offered hand and let him lead her through the restaurant, her pussy throbbing. The other patrons didn’t seem to notice his hurried pace or how he was practically dragging him behind her. Jemma swallowed hard when they began moving towards the exit, but at the last minute Hunter swung them down a different hallway.

“They have single-stall restrooms,” he explained as he pushed the door to one open. “Fancy lot and all.”

The door swung shut behind Jemma, and she found herself pinned against it with Hunter’s weight. “I’m not planning on doing anything fancy.” His breath was hot against her ear, but despite the heat Jemma shivered.

“What if I want fancy?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“You can have it any time but now, love.” Hunter nipped at her ear, then at her neck. “Do you want to?”

“I _just_ told you -”

“Yes or no?” he asked, lips still ghosting across her skin tantalizingly.

Jemma licked her lips. “Yes.” She ignored the voice in her head insisting this was a bad idea. This was beyond fantasizing. But it was just sex, and Hunter could -

“How do you feel about hickies?” Hunter could make her insides feel like they were about to combust. It hardly mattered what else he could do.

“On you?” Jemma teased breathlessly. She’d love to give him bruises, paint his neck purple and blue, let fucking _Bakshi_ know he was more than satisfactory.

Hunter growled, rocking his hips forward into hers. Jemma whimpered at his hardness, and again when his hands travelled up her thighs, gathering the fabric of her dress at her hips.

“Just so we’re clear,” Hunter said, teeth scraping along her throat, “I am going to fuck you against this door. Then we’re going to go back to that nice car Bakshi bought me and you’re going to sit in the backseat like a good little girl and pretend like you don’t want to put your hands all over me.” His tongue flicked out, sliding along the soft, thin skin at the front of her neck.

“I’m not a good girl,” Jemma whispered, fisting a hand through his hair. When she had teased Skye about _bad girl shenanigans_ , she had never considered having sex in a private bathroom of a high-class restaurant. Her eyes fluttered shut as Hunter’s hand moved from the outside of her thigh to the inside, dangerously close to her cunt.

“I can tell,” Hunter purred as he pressed two fingers to the crotch of her underwear, which was nearly soaked through. Jemma’s breath hitched when he moved the fabric to the side, his fingers beginning to explore her folds. He was slow and careful, like they were anywhere besides a public restroom, and his attentiveness caught Jemma off guard. If he wanted, they could have cut the banter, the foreplay, all of it - they both could’ve been halfway to an orgasm.

Now Jemma was halfway there for an entirely different reason. Her fingers tightened in Hunter’s hair when he found her clit and began teasing it.

“You might not be a good girl,” Hunter said huskily, “but you’re going to be _my_ good girl.” His tone didn’t invite any argument, but even if it had, Jemma wasn’t going to disagree, not now. Later she could let him know who was really in charge.

“And you’re going to take this dress off when we get into the car,” he added. “It’s a crying shame I don’t get to see your tits right now.” Hunter removed his hand from in between her legs, and Jemma slowly opened her eyes, feeling oddly shaky. Hunter nuzzled into her chest, and Jemma’s nipples hardened reflexively as she arched towards him.

She was getting impatient, which meant it was time to take matters into her own hands, quite literally. The hand not firmly entrenched in Hunter’s hair reached for the front of his slacks - only to be grabbed firmly. Jemma’s dress slid back down with nothing to hold it up, and the fabric itched at her hypersensitive skin.

“I’m getting there. Now be a good girl and touch your tits for me.”

While Jemma circled her nipple through the fabric of her dress and bra, Hunter made good on his promise and unzipped his slacks, releasing his straining erection. A moment later he had produced his wallet, out of which he took a shiny foil square.

“You shouldn’t store condoms in your wallet,” Jemma blurted. “The friction -”

“Makes them more likely to rip, I know.” Hunter smiled devilishly at her. “Luckily that one’s only been in there… three hours or so?”

Jemma’s mouth went dry. “You planned…?” And here she had thought she was the only one doing any fantasizing.

“No,” he murmured, opening the condom and rolling it onto his shaft, “but fortune favors the prepared.”

He stepped forward into her space, and with his now-free hands once again hiked up the fabric of her dress. Jemma stopped what she was doing with her breast, instinctively reaching for Hunter’s cock. He didn’t stop her this time, allowing her to guide him to her entrance.

“Ready?” he asked, hands tightening on her hips.

“God, yes.”

Nothing could’ve prepared Jemma for the bliss that rolled through her when Hunter pushed in. She threw her head back, not even caring when it slammed against the door. It felt so good it almost hurt, her brain struggling to process the beauty of being stretched _just_ to the brink of pain.

“Move,” she gasped, and Hunter did. Each thrust sent a new thrill of ecstasy up her spine, and Jemma let out a delighted moan when she realized each one also sent her hips back against the door. Anyone walking down the corridor would know exactly what was being done to her, and rather than embarrassing her it sent a flood of dopamine rushing beneath her skin.

Exhibitionism, but _only_ with Hunter. Interesting. She filed that away for inspection, some other time when she wasn’t getting pounded against a door.

“Deeper?” Hunter asked.

Jemma answered with a frantic nod, then a sharp gasp when he lifted her up. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, but the motion caused his cock to slip out of her. Jemma fumbled in between their bodies for his cock, and she’d barely lined them up properly before Hunter was pushing back into her.

The previous angle had been good, but this was heaven. Jemma’s vision went white and all she could hear was the steady _thump, thump, thump_ of her own body against the door and the echo of the moans dripping off her lips. Even Hunter’s voice had faded to static, a litany of _good girl, beautiful girl, so tight and wet and hot_.

She could tell she was going to cum before she did, but couldn’t make her lips form the words to warn Hunter. She shattered around him, but even when the world started to reform in a mess of color and light, he hadn’t stopped slamming his hips into hers.

“I’m almost there, love, you’re being so good for me, _fuck_ -”

Jemma sailed into another orgasm just before Hunter found his first, and they came down together, their bodies both sweat-slick and shaking.

“Can you stand?”

Jemma unhooked her legs from around Hunter, testing her weight before nodding to him. He leaned forward to give her a sloppy kiss, which she returned just as messily.

“Some day,” Hunter said as he slid the condom off, “we’re going to fuck like this, and then I am going to lick every inch of you clean.” He made his point by dragging the flat of his tongue across her decolletage. “Not today, though.” He straightened. “We may have just done enough to get ourselves kicked out.”

Jemma managed a tired smirk. “I hope it was worth it.”

“Darling, hearing you scream my name will always be worth it.”

Jemma flushed. Now would be an inappropriate time to mention she had no recollection of said scream. 

“So this… this is going to be a regular thing?” Jemma asked, adjusting her panties and dress back to their normal position. Her pussy and thighs felt sticky, but the ride home would be short and then she could take a long, hot shower.

“We’re supposed to be dating. Might as well get some of the benefits.”

“And here I thought all I was getting from you was free meals,” Jemma said, still breathless from adrenaline.

“If you decide that’s all you ever want, just tell me Like I told you, I have no qualms about lying to Bakshi about the state of our relationship.” Hunter jerked the zipper of his slacks back up, cock safely hidden away. Damnit, she hadn’t had the presence of mind to look at it, memorize its contours for her private moments. But maybe she didn’t have to memorize it.

“I think this addition should be permanent.” Jemma certainly needed _some_ way to unwind with all the stress she was under, and having sex with a handsome man was infinitely preferable to weekly mental breakdowns. Besides, Hunter had already shown he had a penchant for less-than-vanilla sex, with the slamming her against the door and all, and Jemma was keen to explore that side of him. She was _also_ keen to explore the parts of his body she hadn’t gotten to see thanks to the speed of their romp - Hunter’s chest probably looked fantastic naked.

Besides, sex was just fantasy, plus a little. Coulson didn’t have to know, at least.

“Good.” Hunter gave her one last hard kiss before reaching around her to open the door to the bathroom.

To Jemma’s surprise, no one gave them so much as a disapproving glance when they made their way back to the table; either nobody had heard them, or nobody cared. Regardless of the lack of reaction, she and Hunter finished their meals and paid quickly, his promises of what he’d do to her in the car ringing loudly in her ears.

“I think,” Hunter said as they walked to the car, shamelessly groping her ass, “this is going to be fun.”

Jemma couldn’t help but agree.


	4. Chapter 4

“Dr. Simmons.”

Jemma nearly jumped out of her skin when Hunter’s voice rang through the empty lab. She’d stayed late (again), this time to get actual work done. There were plenty of mysteries at HYDRA she’d like to investigate further, but one of the pitfalls of her new position was how isolated she was in her private lab. She couldn’t go gallivanting around the floor and claim ignorance when she ended up someplace she wasn’t supposed to be.

“Mr. Hunter,” she said, scribbling one last note in her lab notebook before flipping it shut. “Did we have plans tonight?” Jemma couldn’t remember any, but she’d been overtaxing her brain lately - writing anything S.H.I.E.L.D.-related down was a risk she wasn’t willing to take, which meant much of her mental storage capacity was full of information she needed to relay to Coulson at her next briefing.

Her next briefing, which was tonight. If she _did_ have plans with Hunter, they needed to be over before nineteen-hundred.

“No.” He leaned against the lab bench, crossing his arms over his chest and straining his too-tight tee in the process. “But is it a crime to expect a bit of spontaneity in our relationship every once in a while?”

“I suppose not.” The corners of Jemma’s mouth turned up in a smile. Their relationship was _much_ more interesting now that they’d added sex to it. “What manner of spontaneity were you thinking?”

“Well, at first I was thinking maybe I’d strip you naked in this lab and fuck you here,” Hunter said, as casually as if he were recounting plans for a trip to the grocery, “but then I realized you’ve probably had sex in a lab before.” He paused, waiting for confirmation, and Jemma nodded.

“So, a followup question: where have you always imagined having sex, but have never had the chance to?”

Jemma pressed her thighs together, ignoring the building ache between them and the niggle in the back of her brain to insist having sex in the lab was so spectacular she had to do it again. (It wasn’t spectacular. It was a safety hazard, and lab benches were horrible to fuck on. And that was before considering there was a camera trained on them at all times.)

“My parents’ bed,” she answered. She had never been allowed in her parents’ bedroom as a child, and going someplace forbidden, with _someone_ forbidden, had a unique thrill. 

“Mm, don’t think I can swing that one. Don’t fancy flying all the way to Sheffield for a shag.”

“A shame,” Jemma sighed. “More broadly… someplace that doesn’t belong to me. Someplace it would be awful to get caught.” There was that exhibitionist streak rearing its head again. What was it about this man that made Jemma want to show off? 

“Like, say, your boss’s office?” Hunter paused. “Or _my_ boss’s office, since I actually have a key to get in.”

Jemma’s heart leapt into her throat. She had never dreamed she’d be able to get into Bakshi’s office - as far as she knew, no one went in or out without invitation. She should’ve known Hunter had access, being Bakshi’s personal bodyguard. Asking after it would’ve made her seem suspicious, though; now he was just offering, and she couldn’t refuse. (Not like she’d refuse regardless, given the warmth in her belly she wouldn’t be able to rid herself of alone.)

“That would work, yes.” She propped her chin on her elbow, hoping her smile seemed coquettish and nonchalant, not manic.

“Then what are we waiting for?” 

Jemma took his offered hand and allowed him to lead her through the hallways. He took them up through a stairwell, and paused to smirk at her. “No cameras in the stairwells, in case you ever need that information.”

That seemed like a security flaw to her, but Hunter had had to swipe to get to the stairs in the first place, so perhaps it wasn’t as horrible of a security breach as she imagined. 

“We’re going to have sex in the elevator next week,” she said casually.

A moment later she was pinned against the concrete wall of the stairwell, Hunter’s arms bracketing her body.

“Are you trying to make me walk through the halls with a boner?” he asked.

“I’m trying to remind you who’s in charge,” Jemma answered sweetly, reaching for the bulge in Hunter’s pants. His hips bucked into her hand on reflex, and she relished the low rumble he made when she continued rubbing at his crotch.

“I thought I was in charge,” Hunter said, shamelessly grinding into her hand.

“I let you try it once. To get it out of your system.” Jemma’s free hand cupped Hunter’s cheek, and she ran her thumb over his lower lip. “And now you’ll get to see how much more fun it is when I take control.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hunter purred. If she hadn’t already been wet, that would have done it in a heartbeat.

“You’re going to take us to Bakshi’s office now. No more stopping.” Jemma ran her hand up from Hunter’s crotch to his chest, then none-too-gently pushed him back.

“Yes, ma’am.” The way he fell so quickly into obedience gave Jemma the inkling that maybe this wasn’t his first time being dominated, and jealousy surged in her chest. It was useless and irrational, since she and Hunter didn’t have any agreement, let alone an exclusive one. Possessiveness had always been one of her worse qualities, though.

She allowed Hunter to lead her through the halls and into an office. She should’ve been paying more attention to the turns they were taking, but how could she pay attention to that when Hunter’s ass was distracting her?

The door swung shut behind them with a heavy thud, and Hunter stopped just inside the doorway, standing at attention in more ways than one.

“Somebody trained you well,” Jemma said, trailing her hand over his pectoral muscles. She was constantly thinking about him and the tightness of the black tees that he wore, and now that she was allowed to look and touch she found them much more acceptable.

Hunter pressed his lips together. “You can answer me. For now,” Jemma said.

“That would be the army who did the training.”

Jemma laughed. “The army trained you in BDSM?”

“They trained me in following orders. My ex-wife did the rest.”

Jemma halted her hands. _Ex-wife?_ How had she not heard about this? And why did she care?

“Jealous?”

“Shut up.” Jemma dragged him down for a kiss, tangling her fingers in his hair. Her tongue swiped through his mouth as she backed him against the door, and Jemma didn’t stop kissing Hunter until both their chests were heaving.

“What do I need to know before we start?” Jemma asked. It would be irresponsible of her to do anything resembling a scene without at least a _little_ groundwork. Of course, the argument could be made engaging in a sexual relationship with Hunter was irresponsible regardless of how kinky it became, but…

“I don’t do humiliation or bodily fluids. And don’t get me fired. Other than that, go wild.” 

Jemma’s belly clenched in the best way. “You mean having sex in this office won’t get you fired if we get caught?”

“Who’s going to catch me?” Hunter breathed. “Bakshi’s gone, he doesn’t have a camera in this place, and my girlfriend isn’t going to rat me out.”

“Your girlfriend likes this arrangement too much to rat you out,” Jemma agreed, resuming drawing circles on Hunter’s chest. His nipples had tightened into sharp points, and Jemma wanted to bite them. 

“Safe word?” Hunter prompted.

Jemma searched her memory for one, but none of the safe words she had used with her previous partners felt suitable. She needed a new one. “Coulson.” She didn’t know anything else that could kill the mood faster. Hunter nodded his acknowledgement, and they were done.

“Off,” she said, stepping back from Hunter so he could remove his shirt. He pulled it off in one fluid movement and threw it to the side, ready to crowd into Jemma’s space.

“Try again.” Jemma stepped back from him when he tried to get close. Hunter held her gaze for a moment, huffed, and picked up the shirt. He folded it quickly and neatly - more army training, she’d guess - before setting it on the corner of Bakshi’s big oak desk.

Hunter tried again to get closer, and this time Jemma allowed him to. “Good boy,” she added in a low voice. “Are you ready to hear the rules?” Before she could touch Hunter any more - and she _needed_ to wrap her lips around the blush pink of his nipple before they left this office - she had to tell him what to do, and what not to do.

“Yes, ma’am.” Hunter seemed as eager to hear the rules as she was to give them.

“First: no noises. We wouldn’t want to be caught.”

Hunter nodded.

“Second: eyes stay on me at all times. No closing, either.” It wasn’t like he would _want_ to look anywhere else, but Jemma couldn’t remember if Hunter had closed his eyes at all when they were fucking before. It was a common response to overstimulation, though, so Jemma thought it was likely he had.

Hunter nodded again.

“Third: no cumming without permission.”

Hunter raised his hand like a child waiting to be called on, and Jemma sighed. It really didn’t have to be that complicated. “Yes?”

“How am I supposed to ask permission if I can’t make any sound, ma’am?”

“You’ll just have to figure that out, won’t you?” she answered silikly. “Do you have any more questions about the rules?”

Hunter shook his head.

“Good boy.”

Hunter hummed, pleased at the praise. Jemma pondered whether she was going to punish him for technically making a sound, but decided against it. He was going to break one of the rules eventually, she was sure, and then she could have her fun.

Jemma pushed Hunter past the desk and into the chair behind it. There were papers scattered everywhere, papers she’d have to look at later, but right now her focus was on Hunter and getting his pants off him. He exhaled a sigh of relief when she undid his zipper and pulled down his boxers, his cock flopping against his stomach when it was freed. He was only half-hard, but that wouldn’t last long. She stripped him down so he was entirely naked, sitting on the chair and waiting for her.

With Hunter entirely at her mercy, Jemma could finally study his prick the way it was meant to be studied. She ran her fingertips up its length, tracing the veins she could see with a feather-light touch. Hunter was shorter than she would have imagined with how quickly he had wrung an orgasm out of her, but Jemma supposed all that showed her was the old adage about size and using it was true. When she was certain she had studied the length of his prick in sufficient detail, Jemma moved to the girth, wrapping a careful fist around the base. She pumped her hand slowly, noting the way Hunter’s prick tapered just a fraction near the head. It felt nice in her hand, and Jemma couldn’t resist pumping a few more times, just to see the flare of Hunter’s nostrils when she moved.

Jemma kneeled in front of the rolling office chair for a visual inspection, cheeks heating as Hunter’s eyes tracked her. His balls were a nice size and clean-shaven, and Jemma fondled them for a moment before returning her attention to his shaft. The tan of Hunter’s skin had begun to give way to an angry red as his erection hardened, the veins she had traced a minute earlier now standing out in sharp relief. There were few things in life as beautiful as a hard cock, and Jemma was certain she’d just found her favorite one.

There was so much more she wanted to study - how it tasted, how it looked when it was slick with her juices, how quickly she could coax it from softness to straining - but Jemma’s attention caught instead on the precum leaking from Hunter’s slit. She couldn’t stop her hands from reaching for his cock again. She circled her fingers around the crown of his cock with one hand and with the other began teasing at his slit with the tip of her index finger. The dribble of precum became a steady stream, and Hunter’s hips jerked into her hand when she continued to tease the slit.

“Such a messy boy,” Jemma whispered, removing her hands from Hunter’s prick. “We wouldn’t want to get Mr. Bakshi’s chair stained, would we?”

Hunter shook his head frantically, sucking in a loud breath between his teeth.

“Let me clean up for you, then.” Hunter must’ve known what was going to happen, because his entire body tightened in anticipation the moment before her tongue made contact with his cock. She licked up the underside in one long stripe, and the movement sent another rivulet of precum bubbling out. Jemma swirled her tongue around the head, and Hunter’s fingers tightened around the arms of the chair.

Bracing herself with one hand on either of Hunter’s thighs, Jemma leaned forward and sucked the entirety of Hunter’s length into her mouth. His cock touched the back of her throat and Jemma exhaled through her nose to keep from gagging. She pulled back, glancing up to see if Hunter had closed his eyes, but found him staring back at her with his lip between his teeth. 

Jemma released Hunter’s cock from her mouth, but it didn’t flop back against his stomach this time; he was rock hard.

“I think you’re all clean,” she said, “but there’s a different mess I need you to help me with.” Jemma stood up and popped the button of her slacks, stripping them down her legs and stepping out of them, leaving her shoes behind as well.

“I think these might be ruined,” Jemma murmured as she straddled Hunter’s lap, still in her underwear. If she had known this was the direction the day was going to take she would’ve worn something nicer, but the utilitarian black knickers would suffice. “Can you check for me?”

Hunter complied eagerly, his hand diving between their bodies to find her underwear. He paused when his fingers were at the edge of the fabric, and Jemma nodded her permission for him to slip his fingers inside. She rocked her hips forward encouragingly when he found her clit, though by the time he did his fingers were so covered in her slick there was barely any friction at all.

“Ruined?” Jemma asked breathlessly.

Hunter nodded, eyes boring into hers.

“Good thing I never liked them,” Jemma said, hooking her thumb under the waistband. “You won’t mind if I take them off?”

Hunter probably gave himself whiplash with how fast he shook his head.

Jemma didn’t get out of Hunter’s lap to take off her panties, which resulted in a fair bit of grinding as she contorted her body to get them off. When she was finished Hunter was panting like he’d just run a marathon and his cock had taken on a purplish tint as it strained even further.

“You’re being such a good boy, following all my rules,” Jemma praised. “Good boys get rewards.” She took his cock in hand and guided it to her clit, beginning to rub at her swollen nub with the tip of his cock. The panting didn’t subside and Jemma’s own breath began coming faster as the pressure on her clit lit her up inside.

When she couldn’t take the teasing anymore, Jemma pressed Hunter’s cock against her entrance and let the involuntary buck of his hips thrust it inside her. She sank down further until he was fully sheathed within her, her entire body spasming because she was so _full_ and it felt so _good_. She circled her hips, moaning delightedly at the shift in pressure inside her. If she could get off like this, just sitting on Hunter’s dick, she would. But that wasn’t an option -

Unless it was.

Hunter’s lips were moving silently as she gyrated, and though Jemma wasn’t proficient at lip reading, she could guess at some of the words - _fuck, bloody hell, mine, yes_.

“Touch me,” she gasped, circling her hips again. She watched Hunter’s chest seize as he clamped back whatever sound he was going to make, and he did as he was told, reaching for her clit.

“Yes,” Jemma groaned when Hunter pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit. “ _Harder_ , yes, oh god, like that…” She could say whatever she wanted about Hunter, but Jemma would be wrong if she ever said he wasn’t focused on whatever she put in front of him. She could feel his erection throbbing inside her, but he was still touching her with the talent and precision of a more clear-headed man. He was _amazing_ at it, too, following each of her instructions seamlessly, even when Jemma could barely eke out the words.

“Almost there, almost there,” she whimpered. Hunter flicked her clit just as she was rolling her hips, and Jemma fell apart. Her inner walls clenched and her toes curled and a ragged _Hunter_ tore from her lips - and just like that it was over, the tension evaporated.

“ _Jemma_.”

Her name snapped her back to reality, and she wondered if Hunter had gotten so close to cumming he’d forgotten the rules - but no, he was staring her straight in the eye, the corner of his mouth lifted just a fraction so she knew it was on purpose.

The bastard.

She lifted herself off his cock, taking a moment to collect her addled thoughts and conjure an appropriate punishment. Hunter’s timing seemed deliberate, like he _knew_ it would be hard for her to punish him when she’d cum with his name on her lips.

“It’s _ma’am_ to you,” she snapped. “And have we forgotten our manners?”

Hunter lifted one shoulder in an innocent half-shrug.

“Bad boys get punished, Lance.” His throat bobbed at the use of his given name (or maybe it was the threat?), and Jemma smirked. 

“Bad boys don’t get their girlfriends to jerk them off,” she simpered. “Bad boys have to do it all by themselves.” 

Hunter hesitated before wrapping his hand around his cock. When he saw Jemma wasn’t going to stop him, he began pumping steadily, though that lasted for maybe ten seconds before his movements grew frantic.

“Is this how you wank yourself when you’re alone?” Jemma asked, circling around the back of the chair so she could put her lips against Hunter’s ear. “Do you imagine all the ways you could have me, all the times I won’t let you cum inside me?”

Hunter jerked his head in a nod, the chair rocking backwards when he began snapping his hips into his hand. The plastic wheels clattered back to the tile floor moments later, and Hunter stood himself up on shaky legs, bracing himself against the desk. Jemma didn’t comment, instead imagining all the filthy images going through Hunter’s head. He was thinking of fucking her against that desk, she just _knew_ it. His hips were churning as he fucked his hand, and the muscles across his back went taut as he approached his release.

“Stop.”

Jemma suspected it was training more than desire to please her that removed Hunter’s hand when she gave the command. His cock jerked frantically in the air, searching for the last scrap of stimulation it would need to blow.

“When I say start, you have five seconds to cum. If you don’t, you’re done for tonight. Understand?”

Hunter nodded sharply, flexing his fingers on the edge of Bakshi’s desk.

“Go.”

His reaction was immediate, one hand flying to the head of his cock while the other went for his balls.

“Five.”

His ass clenched beautifully when his hips jutted forward, Hunter’s natural instincts unable to be persuaded that sometimes finesse was more important than brute force when it came to getting off.

“Four.”

Hunter’s hand on his balls tightened, but there was hardly any give beneath his fingers. Jemma wanted to touch, feel how full they were, but she couldn’t touch him now. There would be another opportunity.

“Three.”

He made another sound she probably could have punished him for, a startled _mmmf_ as the tips of his fingers on the hypersensitive head of his cock caught a nerve ending he wasn’t prepared for.

“Two.”

Jemma honestly didn’t know if Hunter was going to make it in time. He was doing everything in his power to cum, but it seemed like his body wasn’t cooperating - like it needed something more. 

“One.”

All at once, he exploded. Hunter had the presence of mind to step back from the desk so the streams of cum shooting from his cock wouldn’t get all over Bakshi’s desk and work, instead pointing his cock at Jemma’s already ruined knickers.

“Good boy,” she praised as his chest heaved with exertion. She wanted to touch his cock, force another orgasm out of him, but there was something more important to do - get him out of the way so she could do her job. “Put on your clothes and go get cleaned up, okay?”

Hunter nodded, unable to find words so soon after an intense orgasm. Jemma kissed his cheek before he left, swinging the door shut behind him. When his footsteps had faded, she turned back to Bakshi’s desk. She had papers she needed to photograph before her meeting tonight… and a cover story to concoct about how she had come across them in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter is by the lovely @AgentOfShip - check her out on [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentofship) or [Tumblr](https://agentofship.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Chapter 5

Jemma was not pleased when Hunter showed up in her lab in the middle of the day. It was bad enough he would pop in after-hours and whisk her to a dark corner to have sex - now he had to do it on her lunch break, too?

“Office,” Hunter said, voice brokering no argument. They’d resolved the question of who was in charge on several occasions since the time in Bakshi’s office, but apparently he needed reminding.

Jemma followed him into the office, and she intended to give him a talking-to right until he plopped a bag onto her desk. 

“Food,” he said unnecessarily.

“What?” They weren’t the kind of couple who brought each other lunch. They weren’t the kind of couple who did anything approaching romantic, unless you called shagging like rabbits romance.

“You haven’t eaten lunch all week,” Hunter explained steadily.

“How did you -?” Jemma sighed. Stupid cameras. “Bakshi.”

Hunter nodded. 

“And you couldn’t have given it to me out there because…?”

“Aren’t you always saying food in the lab is a safety hazard?” Hunter tilted his head to the side.

Jemma blinked. She _had_ said that several times when he’d asked her about her day and she’d ranted about the various troubles she’d had, but she never realized he was actually listening.

“Alright. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Hunter ducked in to press a quick kiss to her cheek, which was _strange_ because they didn’t do that. Except for when they were saying goodbye in public… or, come to think of it, in private. Maybe they did do the cheek-kissing thing. “Dinner at yours tonight?”

Dinner at hers meant takeout, pretending to watch a movie, then sex on the couch. “Definitely.” She needed to unwind after the week she was having. Her project had stalled frustratingly - the guide RNA she was using was having too many off-target effects to count, which meant she was back to the drawing board with trying to work on a faster gene-editing mechanism.

“See you when I see you.” Hunter stole another kiss, this one on her mouth, and Jemma watched, chin propped on her hand, as he left.

\---

She was having a breakdown. 

All of the last month of work she’d done was in the scrap heap, which in itself wasn’t why Jemma was frustrated. She was frustrated because she couldn’t _fix it._ The last time she’d been in a situation like this she’d locked herself in a room with Fitz and they’d argued for eight hours straight - but then she’d come out with a new plan, one that had worked. She wanted that now.

The thing was, she wanted someone like Fitz, but not Fitz himself. Everything he had said to her at the bottom of the ocean was complicated, and right now she didn’t need more complications. There was no path forward for her and Fitz, at least not an easy one; she couldn’t tell him she was in love with him, because… she wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine kissing Fitz or going to bed with him, couldn’t think of sharing her life with him in any way different from what they already shared. He was her friend, her _best_ friend, but any time she tried to conjure images of anything sexual, or even romantic, Fitz morphed into Hunter.

Which was entirely because Hunter was her only regular sexual partner in years, Jemma was sure.

Speak of the devil - “Hello, love.”

Jemma looked up and stifled a sigh. She couldn’t explain any of what she was feeling to Hunter, but he’d gained the uncanny ability to know when she was down. In any normal relationship Jemma would’ve considered that a positive, but… things weren’t ever going to be normal between them.

“Are you coming home with me tonight?” she asked. She could use a distraction now more than ever. Focusing endlessly on her project was making her brain feel like mush, and her regular romps with Hunter were the only reason she’d held onto her sanity as long as she had.

“If you’d like,” he said, dragging one of the lab stools over so he could sit beside her on the bench. “I’m fine waiting if there’s more work you need to get done.”

“No,” Jemma sighed. “No, let’s go.”

She could _see_ the moment Hunter decided not to ask her about what was bothering her, and Jemma was grateful for the choice. She didn’t want to lie to him any more than she already had.

“I like that sweater,” Hunter commented mildly as they walked towards the elevator together.

“Why, because it makes my tits look nice?” she snorted.

“I was going to say it brings out your eyes.” Hunter paused. “Everything makes your tits look nice, so it’s not worth commenting on, really.”

That was… unexpectedly sweet. “You know I’m going to have sex with you even if you don’t butter me up,” Jemma said, leaning into one hip as they waited for the elevator to come.

“Can’t I say something nice to my girlfriend without an ulterior motive?” Hunter asked. “Heaven forbid I try to make her smile when she’s had a bad day.”

Jemma pressed her lips together. Hunter wasn’t supposed to be nice to her. Their arrangement was for mutual advancement and stress relief, not for emotional support or flattery. But she couldn’t tell him to _stop_ , not without revealing uncomfortable truths about her own rapidly-twisting feelings.

She stayed silent the entire elevator ride and back to the garage, not speaking until she was in the driver’s seat of her car and Hunter was buckled into the passenger’s side.

“Thank you.” Her fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know,” Hunter said, not looking at her. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to make it better.”

\---

Three hours later Hunter was hovering over her in bed, pressing kisses into her naked skin - one on her cheek, one on her neck, one between her collarbones and drawing soft sighs out of Jemma with each one. His cock was trapped between their bodies, and Jemma felt it twitch with every sound she made. She turned Hunter on without even trying to, which turned her on in response. It was nice to be wanted.

He nosed under her jawline, searching for sensitive spots there with his teeth and tongue. He found one tucked just under her chin, and Jemma let out an appreciative groan as he nibbled at the tender skin. His cock pulsed again, and Jemma’s pussy clenched in return. She wanted him inside her, but Hunter was taking his time.

His mouth strayed lower, ghosting past her throat and decolletage until he found her breasts. Hunter had been fascinated with them from the start, but when she was in charge Jemma rarely allowed him to linger long. Her breasts weren’t nearly as sensitive as the rest of her and his energy was better spent elsewhere. She hadn’t wanted to control him tonight, though - not when she barely had control of herself. So far she hadn’t regretted the decision, and didn’t think she was about to.

Hunter’s tongue flicked at her nipple, teasing it from soft and puffy to a hard peak. He closed his mouth around the tightened point, swirling his tongue gently. Jemma let out a surprised gasp when his teeth scraped against it, the unfamiliar sensation a shock to her system. Hunter paused before repeating the motion.

“Feels good,” she whispered when he paused again. “Don’t stop.”

Even when she wasn’t in charge Hunter was good at following her directions, and he played with her nipples until they were both red and too sensitive to be touched without an edge of pain. Jemma rolled them between her fingers nonetheless, reveling in the sudden sensation in an area of her body she had accepted as relatively unresponsive. She’d never thought to try pain on herself before.

A pleasant warmth thrummed beneath the surface of her skin, different than the electricity she was used to yet somehow the same. Hunter had returned to her neck, nipping and licking until there were pink marks scattered all over her. He was careful not to let any of them turn to bruises, up until when Jemma reached a hand around the back of his head and held him into place.

 _I’m yours_ , she wanted to say, but it was a promise she couldn’t make - at least not out loud. Letting him mark her was the closest she could come, and Jemma wanted it. She wanted to be his - wanted his moments of unexpected sweetness and his sleepy smiles.

In another life, they were on the same side of this war. In another life, she could have him. But in this one all she could have was sex.

Amazing, world-bending, heart-stopping sex - and that was before he was even inside her.

“Want you,” she gasped as he sucked a bruise onto her pulse point. “Please, Hunter, want you.”

“Want you too, love,” he rumbled back. “Want you all the time.”

He slid into her with barely any resistance, her entire body welcoming him in. He thrust a few times experimentally, both of them unused to the position. They didn’t often make it into the bed, and when they did, Jemma was on top. She could get used to being underneath him, though, and used to the way his body rocked into hers. The only thing betraying that the rhythm wasn’t effortless was the strain of Hunter’s arms on either side of her and the harshness of his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he panted, dropping a kiss on her mouth. “So _fucking_ beautiful.”

Jemma arched up into him, the warmth under her skin spreading until it was the only thing she could feel - the only thing other than his cock in her, that was. Hunter continued his praises - _beautiful, lovely, goddess, going to worship you_ \- and with every word Jemma felt even warmer. The familiar urge to play with her clit trickled through her, a drop of cold water down her spine, but she ignored it. She wanted Hunter, wanted to be surrounded by and consumed by him. She wasn’t going to touch herself; she only wanted to touch him.

Her fingers tangled through his hair, and for maybe the first time there was no ulterior motive in the gesture. Jemma didn’t need to urge him closer or push him away; all she wanted was to feel the softness of his hair under her hand and revel in her ability to touch.

“Jemma,” he warned, lips rough against her skin.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re okay. Cum for me.”

The wrecked groan Hunter made as he pumped his hips faster made Jemma’s tenuous grip on her control slip just enough, but when she came it wasn’t like anything she’d ever felt before. She wasn’t being consumed or burned or torn apart - in fact, for one precious moment, she felt terrifyingly _whole_ , like something she had been missing for her whole life was slotting into place. She opened her mouth but in a silent plea for the feeling to last forever, but just as quickly as it had come the feeling disappeared. With it the buzzing under her skin faded and the ache in her thighs receded to a dull throb.

Hunter flopped onto the bed beside her, spent. “Alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jemma sighed back. Then - “Why wouldn’t I be?” He couldn’t have _known_ all the horribly sappy things she was thinking to herself as they fucked, could he?

“You’re normally louder when you cum,” he said. “I’d have thought you were faking it if it didn’t feel so bloody amazing.”

“You think I don’t know how to control those muscles?” Jemma asked teasingly.

“Let me have my ego, woman.” Hunter rolled closer, pulling her in for a kiss. Even as his mouth opened under hers, Jemma couldn’t help but think the kiss felt different - softer. It had to be the oxytocin flooding her system, though. Just because she had accidentally started thinking about Hunter and romance by not thinking about Fitz and romance -

Jemma shuddered. She couldn’t even think about Fitz now without it feeling very, very wrong.

“Mm. I need some water if we’re going to keep making out.”

“Get me some?” Jemma requested as he rolled out of bed. Hunter nodded, and didn’t even bother putting on his underwear before strolling out the door. Hopefully she’d remembered to close the curtains in the kitchen.

The ice clinked merrily in the glasses when Hunter brought the water back, and Jemma accepted hers eagerly. Her mouth had gone dry, and even if this round hadn’t been as athletic as some of the other sexual escapades they’d shared, hydration was always important.

“So,” Hunter asked as he sipped his drink, “how did I do?”

Jemma snorted. “Do you really need your ego stroked right now?”

“Considering you implied you might’ve faked your orgasm, yes!”

“I didn’t fake it,” Jemma said, rolling her eyes. “I trust you not to throw a hissy fit if I tell you you didn’t make me cum.” So far that hadn’t been a problem in the slightest, though.

“Throw a hissy fit, no. Get back to work, yes.” Hunter paused. “So you trust me, huh?”

“Specifically to make me orgasm,” Jemma interjected before he could go getting any ideas. “... And maybe with a few other things.” She trusted him to keep her safe, as odd as that was. She trusted him not to hold their arrangement over her head if he ever wanted something from her. She trusted him too much.

“I can accept that.” Hunter took another swig of water. “But you shouldn’t trust anyone at HYDRA.”

“Not even you?” Jemma asked, even though it was too late to unring that bell.

“Even me,” Hunter answered softly. “No one is everything they seem, Jemma. Everyone wants something. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“How can you say I shouldn’t trust you when all you seem to care about is me?” Jemma asked. He brought her lunch, he listened when she talked, he gave a damn about her feelings -

And he was HYDRA.

“Maybe we should stop talking,” Hunter whispered, setting his glass on the floor beside the bed, “and start kissing again.”

Kissing wasn’t nearly as complicated. Kissing didn’t leave her feeling disoriented and off-balance. Kissing didn’t make her wonder, once again, if she was doing the right thing. So Jemma kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him.

\---

“Hunter?” Jemma asked blearily, flailing her arm out. Instead of a warm body she found a cold bed, and she frowned. Falling asleep together hadn’t been their plan, but she’d have thought Hunter would have the decency to wake her before taking off.

Jemma stumbled out of her bedroom and into the kitchen to verify Hunter was indeed gone. She looked around for a note - there was none - before picking up her phone to ask him where he’d gone. She found her note there instead, in the form of a text message. _Had to go - boss needed me. See you at work. xx_ It was timestamped a few minutes after midnight.

Well. At least he hadn’t kissed and ran in the worst way possible. It was still pretty terrible, though. Jemma _felt_ pretty terrible. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he said about trusting him. Could she stop trusting him just because he told her to? And if the answer was yes - _how_ could she stop, without him knowing she was pushing him away?

Jemma sighed. It was just supposed to be sex.

She’d mucked that up.


	6. Chapter 6

“You really should wake me up if you’re going to leave,” Jemma said without preamble when Hunter came to visit her the next day.

“Like I said, I had somewhere to get to,” Hunter replied, unperturbed. “How’s the project going?”

Jemma shrugged. She had (mostly) figured out what was going wrong with her guide RNA, but she didn’t want to promise anything and be unable to deliver. Keeping expectations low was key to her bouncing back from this sort of thing - Jemma was talented at many things, but lowering her expectations wasn’t one of them. She wanted perfection, constantly. Some would call it a character flaw, but she preferred to think of it as ambition.

“What did Bakshi need you for at midnight?” she asked, hoping to get more information on where Hunter had gotten off to. Besides, if someone was out for Bakshi, so much so he needed to call his bodyguard in the middle of the night, Jemma ought to know. They were a potential ally.

“It wasn’t Bakshi who needed me.”

Jemma’s eyebrow ticked up. “Who, then?”

“I have to keep some secrets, even from you, love.” Hunter grinned at her like his admitting to keeping a secret wasn’t any problem whatsoever - and Jemma was forced to remind herself it _shouldn’t_ be. It would be hypocritical for her to be mad about Hunter keeping secrets when she was keeping perhaps the largest secret of all.

“How can I make it up to you?” Hunter asked, reaching to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. Jemma met his gaze, but it was impossible to determine if he was actually remorseful or not. He was a better spy than she was. Because he had been a soldier, Jemma reminded herself. She couldn’t expect herself to be better than him at everything, even if it would be much easier for her if she could outclass everyone in every way.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Jemma said eventually. “Stay the night. And don’t leave this time.”

“Do I need to prepare for anything between dinner and sleeping?” Hunter asked, voice slipping lower in register and volume. He probably thought he was being _so_ seductive… and he’d be right about it, too.

“I’ll think of something.” Jemma still wasn’t sure if she was steady enough on her feet to be Hunter’s domme, but she wouldn’t mind a repeat of the night before - just without the running away bit.

“Good. I can drive if you’d like.” It seemed like an olive branch, and one Jemma was willing to take, but it did bring up questions - like how Hunter had left her apartment the night before if he had driven there with her? How had he even gotten into work? Her apartment was close, but not close enough to be a comfortable walk to either his apartment or the Aquarium.

Then again, Hunter was, as she had admitted many times, more physically fit than she was. It wouldn’t surprise her if he could casually run the five miles from her apartment to the Aquarium without breaking a sweat.

“Sounds good.” She reached up to kiss him on the cheek, and he dismissed himself from the lab - which meant Jemma needed to get back to work.

\---

“Next time we’re in that elevator, we’re going to shag,” Jemma said against Hunter’s ear, closing her apartment door behind her with one hand. The elevator in the Aquarium, the elevator at her apartment, it didn’t matter which one, as long as Hunter was there. She kept promising to take him in an elevator but things never panned out.

“I don’t know how you pull off demure scientist nine hours a day, love,” Hunter said, fisting his hands in the fabric of her pencil skirt. “It seems like all you think about is where we’re going to fuck next.”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Jemma smirked. “Or has someone forgotten whose idea it was to have sex in his boss’s office? And wasn’t the restaurant you as well?”

“Fair. But you tried to make me jizz in the back of a taxi -”

“Did _not_.” She had just rubbed him a little. Or a lot. But she’d stopped before he was in any danger of messing himself.

“And the lapdance in front of your window?”

Ooh, that one had been fun. And her idea. “So we both like to show off a little. It’s not a crime.”

“We have had quite a few adventures,” Hunter agreed. He reached around her skirt, trying to find the zipper, and Jemma humored him by slipping the skirt off herself.

“It’s almost like we’re actually dating.”

Hunter’s hands paused. “Would you want to actually date?”

Jemma shrugged. “I don’t see what would be wrong with trying. We know we’re sexually compatible, and I enjoy your company.”

“You do?”

Jemma furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve always gotten the impression you don’t really like me, except for,” Hunter gestured to the naked half of her body, “this.”

“I…” And how could she explain this? _I think I might love you, but I know it’s a bad idea? I would date you if you weren’t a fucking Nazi? I want you against my better judgement?_

“It’s fine if you don’t,” he said. “A lot of people don’t.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Jemma asked, affronted on Hunter’s behalf. A lot of people didn’t _like_ him? What was there not to like? Hunter wasn’t a genius-level intellect, but he paid attention when she talked, which was more than she could say of some geniuses. He remembered what she said to him, even if he probably didn’t think it was important. He charmed practically everyone he met and he was sweet and -

And she, apparently, had it bad for him.

“I’m the kind of person people tolerate because I’m convenient.” Hunter shrugged. “Right now I’m useful to you, ergo -“

“Sit down,” Jemma interrupted, pushing him to the kitchen table. When he was situated in one of the chairs she straddled him, but there was nothing sexual about the position. She just needed to be close to him, face-to-face and eye-to-eye. 

“No one should ever spend time with you because you’re _convenient_ ,” Jemma whispered. No one deserved that, let alone Hunter. “Because let me tell you, you’re not convenient. Thinking about you all the time is not _convenient_. You forcing me to take lunch breaks is not _convenient._ I’m not spending time with you because I think you’re the easy choice, or my only choice, or even because Bakshi wants me to. Like you said, he thinks he’s much more intelligent than he is. I can outsmart him if I want.” Jemma didn’t think there was anyone at HYDRA she couldn’t outsmart if she wanted or needed to… except maybe Hunter, and that was just because there were too many feelings in the way.

She was so going to hell for this. She could’ve fallen in love with someone simple, someone who was _actually_ convenient instead of a man who was destined to rip her heart out. She could’ve, but instead Jemma had fallen for some ruffian with eternal stubble and a stupid smirk and gorgeous, kind eyes.

“Are you going to say something else or just insult me?” Hunter asked. Tears were shimmering on his lower lids, though, which meant he had heard her message loud and clear.

“I think I love you,” Jemma said, so quietly she couldn’t hear it over the sudden rush of blood in her ears.

Hunter’s lips met hers, but instead of the heat she was expecting Jemma only found softness, like he was afraid of pushing too hard.

Jemma knew what it was like to be too afraid to hope. 

She slid her tongue into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist when Hunter stood. He moved them into the bedroom as they continued to kiss. Even though they’d done it hundreds of times now, it felt new and different with her feelings on the table.

Hunter dropped her onto the bed and squirmed his hand in between their bodies so he could begin unbuttoning her blouse.

He had gotten two buttons undone when there was a knock at the door.

“Ignore it,” Jemma said immediately when he looked up at the sound. He obeyed, and managed to get another button popped before the door’s handle turned and it squeaked open.

Oh no. Oh _no_. There was only one other person who had the key to this place, and -

“Stay here,” Jemma said, hastily buttoning her shirt and pulling on a pair of sweatpants she had abandoned on the floor sometime earlier in the week. Hopefully Coulson hadn’t seen her skirt by the door. 

“Jem, don’t -” She didn’t hear the rest of his protest as she stepped out of the bedroom, smoothing her hair and trying to be surreptitious about how quickly she closed the door behind her.

“Hello, sir.” Jemma forced a smile onto her face. “What brings you here?” Coulson was meticulous about planning their meetings so Jemma could have her reports organized and ready to present. The longer they spent in each other’s company the greater the chances of someone _seeing_ them in each other’s company, which would not be a good thing.

“I have some information I want to pass on,” Coulson said, throwing a folder of materials onto her kitchen counter. “Things we’ve discovered about HYDRA we didn’t know at your last check in.”

“And it couldn’t wait?” Jemma asked, picking the folder up with some interest. How had the team gotten all this information? Maybe Skye had finally found a way past HYDRA’s impressive firewalls.

“It couldn’t,” Coulson confirmed. “Some of it is relevant to your safety.”

Jemma did enjoy not dying, even if it did come at the expense of sex being interrupted.

“And while we’re here, I have a few questions for you,” Coulson said. He sat in the chair still pulled out from the table, and Jemma swallowed hard before accompanying him. Hopefully Hunter took her command to stay in the bedroom seriously.

“Yes, of course.”

“Is now a bad time?” Coulson asked. Was she really being that obvious?

“No, I -”

And then the bedroom door opened.

Jemma lunged for the holster at Coulson’s belt, jerking out the gun and pointing it at the center of Hunter’s chest. He put his hands up, palms towards her, and backed up a step so he was practically back in the bedroom.

Jemma looked down at the gun, and sighed. It was an ICER. Good. She would hate to have to shoot Hunter with a real bullet.

“Simmons,” Coulson asked. “Who is this?”

“He’s HYDRA,” Jemma answered, voice trembling. She couldn’t tell Coulson the truth about why Hunter was in her apartment, or he would take her off the mission immediately, and Hunter would be suspicious. He knew more than enough to go digging, and if he found something out - that would be a disaster.

“I’m really not,” Hunter said, oddly calm for someone who had a gun pointed at his chest. “I already told you I have more bosses than just Bakshi.”

“You’re lying!” Even if he _had_ told her that already, Jemma didn’t want to believe it. Hunter having complicated loyalties meant she was in even more of a mess than she originally anticipated.

Hunter sighed. “Jemma, would I lie to you?”

“Yes!” she snapped. She knew he could lie to her, because she could lie to him. “Who else are you working for, then?”

Hunter hesitated, but his eyes flicked to Coulson, and that was all the answer Jemma needed.

“No,” Jemma breathed. It couldn’t be. Hunter couldn’t be S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Jemma, I can explain -”

“What is there to _explain_?” she hissed, throwing the gun down onto the table and jerking herself to standing. “That you’ve been lying to me since the day we met?!”

“Simmons, sit down,” Coulson said, voice kind.

“No!” she snapped. “You sent in another undercover agent and didn’t tell me? _Why_? Do you not - did you not trust me to be able to do the job?” That stung almost as much as being lied to. Jemma was competent, she _was_ , and she had put countless hours into preparing herself for this role. Hunter had been at HYDRA long before her, if Bakshi’s trust in him was anything to go by, which meant Jemma was just the backup plan. She had been scared for her life for months because she was the _backup plan_ , and Coulson hadn’t even told her she was safe, there was someone looking out for her - _why_? 

And why hadn’t Hunter told her, either? He obviously knew, so why had he let her believe she was falling in love with a fucking _Nazi_ when he could have told her the truth? He’d had a hundred opportunities, with all the times they’d been alone together, and -

“That’s where you went last night,” Jemma said flatly. “This,” she held up the folder Coulson had handed her, “this is all yours.”

Hunter nodded.

Coulson, for his part, wasn’t commenting on them being together last night, or even that Hunter had emerged from her bedroom looking decidedly more mussed than usual. 

If Hunter had told him about them, what they did together, Jemma was going to be sick.

“I trust you, Simmons,” Coulson said slowly, like he was talking to a frightened animal instead of one of the agents in his care. “You and Hunter have access to different information. You’ve gathered a lot of intel about the science division he could’ve never hoped to find.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me about him! And why you pretended not to know him just now!” Maybe she was behaving like a child throwing a tantrum, but Jemma thought she deserved a tantrum after having her entire world turned upside down with one accidental visit. Anger balled up in her chest, hot and tight and uncomfortable, but yelling at Coulson had helped a little. At least, she hoped it helped.

“The less you know, the safer you are.”

“Do you really believe that?” Jemma scoffed. 

“Yes, I do,” Coulson answered, leveling her with blue eyes cold as ice. It was enough to make Jemma pause, but only for a moment - she had never seen Coulson look _cold_ before. “Which is why you two weren’t supposed to associate whatsoever.” He turned to look at Hunter, who didn’t cower under the older man’s gaze. That didn’t surprise Jemma - Hunter didn’t cower often.

“I gave her more access than she had. Nobody knows it’s because we’re from the same organization,” Hunter said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Bakshi trusts me, and now he trusts her too. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Coulson didn’t answer the question. “I expect you both to be able to continue your work, even with this… revelation.”

He didn’t wait to be excused - just strolled out of the apartment, either oblivious to the tension in the air or choosing to ignore it. Jemma assumed it was the latter, because he had to step over her dropped skirt to get out the door. He knew this was more complicated than just two agents in an argument.

“Jemma -”

“I _really_ don’t want to hear whatever you have to say to me,” Jemma snapped. “You violated my trust in _every_ way and you expect it to be fine!?” She had already been through a betrayal like this once before, and while it should have been a relief Hunter was S.H.I.E.L.D., Jemma couldn’t feel anything other than rage at being lied to.

“I never said that.” Hunter was oddly calm, and that just made Jemma angrier. She was _pissed_ and he was acting like he was the level-headed one and she hated it!

“Get _out_ ,” she snarled. “I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to speak to you, I don’t even want to think about you, so get the fuck out of my apartment!”

Hunter hesitated until Jemma grabbed the ICER Coulson had left behind and pointed it at him again. No, it wouldn’t make sense to shoot him and have him pass out on her floor, but the threat of violence was enough to get Hunter away from her. Hunter slammed the door behind him, and Jemma stomped her foot in response, as if he could hear her.

God, she hated him. She hated him and she hated being lied to and she hated this whole _fucking_ situation.

She had told Hunter she loved him and he had just kept lying. And then he’d had the audacity to act like it was something he could just explain away! The tightness in her chest seized tighter still. At least he hadn’t told her he loved her back. She’d never be able to believe him if he did.

And Coulson - Coulson pretended to care about her safety, but apparently her emotional health was just a plaything and letting her believe she was utterly alone for months on end was just _fine_. Letting her agree to go on a mission after suffering a life-altering trauma was _fine_.

No one had even told her how Fitz was doing.

Jemma slammed the gun back onto the table. She didn’t want to think about Fitz, either. Why were all the men in her life utter arseholes?

She’d take an ill-timed love confession from someone she didn’t have romantic feelings for over this mess any day. At least with Fitz she could tell him she didn’t feel the same and they could start over, begin to heal.

Jemma didn’t know how she was ever going to heal from _this_.


	7. Chapter 7

The next week passed uneventfully. Coulson didn’t contact her again; Hunter stayed away. She saw him once in the corridor, entirely on accident, and he had actually turned around and gone the other direction.

Apparently her message had gotten through to him. About time the men in her life started listening to what she wanted instead of just assuming they knew best.

As for Jemma herself, time didn’t seem to be helping much. Every morning she woke up and was angry all over again - mostly at Hunter. Coulson she could understand. He thought it was for the good of S.H.I.E.L.D., and no one knew how many well-meaning people had made mistakes for the good of their organization.

The case could be made that Hunter was doing the same, but Jemma couldn’t bring herself to believe it the way she could with Coulson. When Hunter said people kept him around because he was convenient… Jemma had been mulling on it for a while, but it didn’t seem a stretch of the imagination to think he meant S.H.I.E.L.D. He was invited in because of his skillset and his apparent desire for goodness and justice (or whatever it was that had persuaded Coulson he was on the correct side) but didn’t feel like he belonged. Of course, that was all guess work. Guess work which supported her notion that Hunter shouldn’t have been more loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. than he was to her - which Jemma _knew_ was an awful thought, but was a thought she couldn’t stop having regardless.

Parts of her wanted to talk to Hunter and ask him why he did it, but every time she thought she was ready for that conversation, the anger would bubble up again. She didn’t trust herself not to punch him if he got within swinging distance.

She also didn’t trust herself to keep her clothes on. She had never understood the appeal of hate sex until she’d came twice in as many minutes riding her hand and thinking about wiping the stupid smirk off Hunter’s face. Jemma could keep his mouth busy enough that he wouldn’t be able to lie to her and maybe she could work off some of her anger in a way that would keep it off.

Part of the reason she found herself so angry in the mornings, after all, was that she still dreamed about Hunter. Even worse, not all the dreams were sexual. A few of them were downright romantic - slow-dancing in the kitchen, cuddling in front of a fireplace, talking together as they walked through busy streets.

Knowing Hunter wasn’t HYDRA at least gave her an excuse for those dreams. The part of her that wasn’t furious at him had a world of possibilities open to it. They could be together. They were on the same side and they could be together… if Hunter wasn’t such a _jerk_. A jerk she had unfortunately given her heart to. 

Taking her love back was proving much harder than giving it away.

Jemma raked her hand through her hair as she walked towards the elevator bay. Without Hunter to persuade her to go home she had stayed much later than usual, just as she had every day since their argument. Her experiment was progressing faster than ever, and she suspected soon she’d have results worth publishing.

The elevator dinged to announce its arrival, and Jemma stepped into it. She didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until the other person spoke.

“Are you sure you want to be this close to me?”

Jemma groaned, but the elevator door was already closing. It was too late to escape Hunter.

“No, but I don’t suppose I have any choice now, do I?”

“Jemma -”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she interrupted.

“How am I supposed to earn your forgiveness if you won’t even talk to me!?” Hunter asked, obviously exasperated.

“That sounds like a you problem!” Jemma snapped. She didn’t care about Hunter’s whining.

“If you don’t want to talk, then why did you stop the elevator?”

What? 

Jemma looked down to find instead of pressing the lobby button, she had hit the emergency stop. Stupid subconscious playing tricks on her. 

“There are better things you can do with your mouth than talk,” Jemma said. “Get on your knees.”

“I’m not making a sex tape with you,” Hunter said, gesturing to the camera in the corner. “God knows we don’t need HYDRA to have that kind of leverage.”

“I’m not as dumb as you think,” Jemma opened her purse and beginning to dig around.

“I don’t think you’re dumb.”

“But you do think I’m gullible. Those are practically the same.” Jemma found what she was looking for and held it up triumphantly. She had slid the laser pointer into her bag the first time she had mentioned having sex in the elevator to Hunter, since the security camera had always been a concern. Laser pointers could blind cameras when properly positioned, though, and Jemma had carefully calculated where to place the pointer to do just that.

Hunter stood, dumbstruck, as she flicked the pointer on and nestled it in the corner.

“How do you -?”

“Trust me,” Jemma said. “Or is that too hard for you?”

“I trust you,” Hunter answered. “But you always love talking about science and -”

“Would you just shut up and get on your knees?” Jemma didn’t like asking the same thing twice.

Hunter, for his part, didn’t hesitate before dropping down and crawling to close the distance between them. 

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” Jemma asked, backing up until her arse touched the wall of the elevator.

“Lick you?” Hunter guessed.

“I need you to make me cum,” Jemma said breathlessly. She didn’t want him just to lick her, though she doubted he was going to take that statement literally. His mouth was far too talented to stop just at licking.

“Jemma…” Hunter looked up at her through his lashes. “Do you actually want this, or are you just horny?”

“I…” The question hardly felt fair. She always wanted Hunter - it niggled at the back of her brain no matter what she was doing. Being horny and wanting him were practically synonymous; it was only when he wasn’t available that she considered doing anything by herself, and even then she thought about him the whole time. If Hunter was a drug, she was addicted.

But he wasn’t a drug. He was a human, and a human she wanted even when she hated him. 

Was that what love was? Jemma hoped not.

“Touch yourself,” Hunter said huskily. “And I’ll touch you if you still want me after you cum.”

Jemma already knew the answer to that question. She would want him then, too. If anything, finishing on her own hand would make her want him more. 

“Please,” she whimpered, hands curling into fists. Having to touch herself again like she’d been doing all week when he was right there in front of her was the most exquisite form of torture.

“I want you to want _me_ , Jem. Not just the idea of getting off.” Hunter sat back on his heels and stared up at her with a look Jemma could only describe as adoration. “I know you’re angry at me. You have a right to be angry at me. But you’re not going to do something you regret because of it.”

She was _trying_ to have hate sex and he was ruining it by reminding her of all the reasons she didn’t hate him at all and somehow making her even _more_ turned on in the process. Jemma had been too caught in her head to think much about the physical manifestations of her arousal, but as soon as her train of thought slowed for a moment she was hit full-force by everything she was feeling. Her skin was too hot and her knees wobbled and her cunt throbbed painfully, and it was all because she was in close proximity to Lance Hunter. Jemma leaned against the wall so she wouldn’t have to support her own weight, the coolness of marble helping her regain her senses.

Jemma unbuttoned her slacks and slid her hand inside, sighing in relief when she slid her thumb over her aching clit and gave it the pressure she craved.

It felt nice, but not as nice as Hunter’s lips. 

Jemma knew how to get herself off, and most of the time she could do it with the same efficiency she lived the rest of her life. But now that she had a genuine reason to want to be as efficient as possible, her body rebelled. It had everything to do with her traitorous brain and how every time she felt something good, there was a voice whispering _but it could be better_. Hunter was still sitting in front of her, watching her raptly, and there was no reason for him not to have his head between her thighs.

Every time Jemma thought she was about to tip over the edge, something inside her would seize and she’d drop back to the frustrating state of being aroused, but not aroused _enough_. Jemma didn’t know how long it had been but her wrist was beginning to smart and sweat slicked her entire body.

“Sweetheart,” Hunter murmured. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

 _Why are_ you _doing this to me?_ Jemma wanted to scream. “It’s not on purpose,” she gasped instead as she flicked at her clit. “Please just let me fuck your mouth, I need to cum so bad.” Jemma swallowed around the dryness in her throat. “I need you to make me cum. I told you that.”

“You’re going to cum without me,” Hunter said firmly. “And then I’m going to make you cum again on my mouth, and again on my hand, and again on my cock.”

“Keep talking,” Jemma whined as she thrust two fingers inside herself. “Please.” If she couldn’t have Hunter’s mouth at least she could have his voice urging her on.

“Or would you rather get off on my thigh? That would be such a pretty picture, my little domme humping my leg because she can’t control herself.” Hunter smirked, and _God_ she loved to hate that stupid smirk. She had before they’d gotten together and she did now, especially because it drew attention to his perfect lips and everything she couldn’t have. 

“I bet you wish we had done that in Bakshi’s office, don’t you? If we went back there I’d want to fuck you on the desk, but you’re just so damn impatient that you wouldn’t even be able to get your clothes off, or mine.” Jemma didn’t know it was possible for her mouth to get any drier or her pussy to get any wetter, but somehow the mention of Bakshi’s office did both. The elevator was fun but there was no chance of anyone walking in on them, no secret thrill of being someplace they weren’t supposed to be. Hunter stood up slowly and Jemma whined as he moved closer, rubbing her clit harder.

“You’d rub your pussy against my leg and be so damn embarrassed it was getting you off, but you wouldn’t care because it felt so fucking good.” Jemma slid a third finger in, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to focus on the picture Hunter was painting her with his liquid smooth voice.

“You’d be so close to orgasm it was all you could think about, but you wouldn’t be able to finish until I said…” Hunter’s breath was hot in her ear, and Jemma’s whole body shook with anticipation. “Cum for me, Jemma.”

She shattered around her fingers, gasping Hunter’s name. He caught her when she tipped forward, holding her up as her brain continued to short-circuit. She had never edged for long before and the sensation of finally orgasming after holding out for what felt like forever was an intense experience - one Jemma wouldn’t mind replicating in a less intense environment.

“That’s my girl,” Hunter murmured when she came back to herself. “Such a good girl, my Jemma.”

“Good boy,” she whispered back reflexively. 

“I told you you didn’t need me.”

“I don’t,” Jemma lied. Never mind that she never would have finished without his voice in her ear. Lying was a thing they did - a thing they had always done - and at least this one wasn’t as bad as hiding her allegiance.

“Do you want to cum again?” Hunter asked.

Jemma took a deep breath. She could barely even stand on her own, and the idea of another orgasm after one so intense seemed impossible. But if she said no then Hunter would count himself right in thinking she had never wanted him for anything other than sex, and even if she was _pissed_ she wasn’t sure she could let him believe that was true.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Hunter dropped to his knees in front of her, and this was nothing like what Jemma had imagined when she’d stopped the elevator. She’d wanted them to fuck hard and fast against the wall like they had in the restaurant, something to get out the tension. Now it just felt like there was a different sort of tension building - the realization that she wanted things to work with Hunter, as soon as she had enough time to process her anger. She couldn’t tell him that, though. 

He dragged her slacks and knickers down around her thighs and immediately went to work. The first thing Hunter did was lick up the slick on her inner thighs, and Jemma tried not to tremble when his tongue passed over particularly tender spots.

She braced her hands on his shoulders the moment he put his mouth on her cunt, biting her lower lip to keep in the shout begging to escape. Hunter’s tongue sliding through her folds felt like he was dragging a live wire across her skin, simultaneously painful and electrifying. He was slow and methodical with his movements, and eventually the pain of overstimulation faded into a dull throb, one which only served to juxtapose and heighten the pleasure alongside it.

“Yes,” Jemma murmured as he began to migrate towards her clit. “Yes, good boy… oh, _fuhhhh_ …” Jemma couldn’t even get out the whole expletive when he wrapped his lips around her clit and suckled. The gentle pressure was enough to blur the line between real and unreal, sending Jemma floating in a sea of pleasure while still tethered to the shore.

He released it a moment later and Jemma keened. “Please just make me cum,” she half-said, half-sobbed. She knew it would be easy - all she had to do was cut the rope holding her to reality and she could go to the place where nothing existed but her and the orgasm she was having.

“Is a minute really all you need?” Hunter asked.

“With you, I only need a few seconds.” Jemma shouldn’t have stroked his ego that much, but it got her the desired results; Hunter latched onto her clit again, and with one expert circle of his tongue he threw her head-first into the waves of another orgasm. She emerged gasping for breath and chilled to the bone, yet sated in a way she hadn’t been before.

“Good boy,” Jemma said again, words slurring together slightly.

Hunter stood up slowly and jemma adjusted her balance with him. All she could do for a minute was stand and breathe as her hyperarousal began to ebb, leaving her with her boyfriend she still kind of hated, but also definitely loved.

“Do you need…?” She gestured towards his crotch.

“No, love. You’ve given me all I need for a long, long time.”

“You’re going to wank to me?” Damn him and how he still managed to surprise her.

“Unless you don’t want me to.” 

Who else would he think about? His ex-wife? A different kind of anger flared in Jemma’s chest, and she shook her head. She was fine if Hunter still imagined her. She still imagined him, and she was very much interested in not being a hypocrite.

“Then start the elevator,” Jemma said. “And don’t say another word.”

They went in opposite directions when the elevator opened onto the ground floor, and Jemma couldn’t help but think that was on purpose. 

Elevator hate sex that wasn’t quite hate sex probably hadn’t been the best idea, but even when she got home and was alone with her thoughts, Jemma didn’t have the strength to regret it.


	8. Chapter 8

There were few things in life Jemma Simmons was unsure of, and for the first time in her life, science was one of them.

The results on her experiment had come back, and they were even more groundbreaking than she had thought. The problem, though, was they were technically _HYDRA’s_ groundbreaking experimental results, and they were going to be used for… Jemma didn’t particularly know what, but she couldn’t imagine how handing over information about how to edit genomes more efficiently to a group whose founders were ardent eugenicists would be anything short of immoral. The technology itself wasn’t dangerous, but in the wrong hands, it was catastrophic. She hadn’t considered this at the beginning of her experiment because she was never sure how far she was going to get; the roadblock she ran into seemed further proof she would never have anything worthwhile, and now it was too late to manufacture another excuse she couldn’t turn over her data.

Jemma needed to think, and trying to clear her head while in the midst of exactly what was muddling her wasn’t going to work. She didn’t often spend time on the quad outside the Aquarium - in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she was there - but maybe maybe the newness of the environment and the fresh air would stimulate her brain. She had also been instructed to tell Coulson if she completed anything of value at HYDRA, so she could do the drop and be on with her life.

Unfortunately, lunch didn’t do much to untangle her feelings. She didn’t want to just destroy her last six months of work; it had purposes other than whatever HYDRA would warp it into. She could save lives, change the world for the better, do _great things_ , and S.H.I.E.L.D. simply didn’t have the funding to do work like she had done at HYDRA - she wouldn’t be able to repeat her experiments with enough vigor for a S.H.I.E.L.D.-supported paper to be viable. Staying at HYDRA long-term was appealing, when Jemma considered it from a purely scientific angle. Virtually unlimited funding, the freedom to pursue any project she wanted… with the understanding it would eventually be twisted beyond recognition and used for nefarious purposes.

Jemma sighed and finished her lunch. She threw away the wrapper of her taco along with the flexible data pad she had been instructed to use to pass the message to Coulson. For all the people on the quad, no one seemed to have noticed when it briefly flared with an eagle insignia, which was a relief.

(Sometimes, Jemma wished S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t so slap-happy with its logo. Really, secretive communications with undercover operatives shouldn’t have the ability to accidentally give said operative away.)

She stopped at the bathroom in the lobby to wash her hands, and then made her way to her floor by elevator. She tried not to smirk at the security camera, and wondered if anyone had noticed the laser had burned a blind spot into the camera’s lens. Probably, unless Hunter had talked to someone about it and covered their arses.

When she got to the lab, the sole technician who was still there looked at her strangely, with a mixture of pity and… fear? Jemma furrowed her brow. The technician, Smith, wasn’t a close friend of hers, but no one in HYDRA was close to Jemma, with the obvious exception. She and Smith had a cordial relationship, and Jemma wasn’t sure what changed in between her leaving for lunch and coming back.

That was, until her phone buzzed. 

She opened the text from a number she didn’t recognize and clicked on the attached file.

It was a picture of her with the S.H.I.E.L.D. data pad, eagle logo and all.

 _Hunter._ Jemma hated her first thought was of him, because she still wasn’t speaking to him and she had absolutely no desire to seek him out. She also had no desire to see him dead, though, and if she was compromised, there was a chance he was too.

Jemma wracked her brain, trying to remember Hunter’s daily schedule. There was a very good chance he was with Bakshi, who was the last person Jemma wanted to see if evidence of her double agency was being mass-messaged to everyone at HYDRA. Maybe he was still on his lunch break, in which case he’d be in the cafetera. It also wasn’t a safe place to be for her, but she had to know that Hunter was okay. Then she could worry about getting them both out of there.

She tried not to arouse suspicion, speed-walking down the hallway towards the stairwell rather than running. She didn’t want to be stuck in an elevator if worse came to worse, even one without a functioning security camera.

Jemma wasn’t sure whether it was luck or something else that had her meet Hunter on the third floor. He didn’t look like he was looking for her, though - he seemed ready to brush past her until she grabbed his arm. “We need to go.”

“What?”

Wordlessly Jemma handed him her phone, the picture of her with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo still pulled up on the screen.

“Shite,” he said, which neatly summarized Jemma’s feelings as well. “Do you know the extraction plan?”

“There’s an extraction plan?”

Hunter dragged his palm down his face, then nodded. “I thought Coulson would’ve told you after you knew I was here, but I guess not.”

“The plan?” Jemma prompted, ignoring her burgeoning anger at once again being exempt from important information about the mission.

“Get to the roof,” Hunter said. “I’ll let him know what’s happening.” 

“Are you not coming with me?” Jemma asked.

“I need to figure out where this came from. I’ll talk to Bakshi and then meet you there. If it’s been longer than ten minutes, leave without me.”

“ _Leave without you_?” Jemma repeated disbelievingly. She was _not_ going to leave without him, whether he liked it or not. Figuring out who had leaked the picture of her shouldn’t be their first priority, especially not when they didn’t know whether or not Hunter was also compromised.

“That’s what I just said, love. Go on.” Hunter extracted himself from her grip and made a shooing motion up the stairs. 

“No.” Jemma said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“Jemma, you’re wasting time.”

“I am not taking another step unless you come with me,” she declared. Hunter knew she was used to giving orders and having them followed, but he probably didn’t know just how stubborn she could be when her orders _weren’t_ obeyed.

“You don’t need to pretend to care about me anymore, Jem. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself. Now _go_ ,” he said, exasperated.

 _Pretend to care?_ What exactly did Hunter think was going on? Sure, she was angry, but - actually, she wasn’t even that angry anymore, though that could be the adrenaline clouding her judgment. 

“Come with me,” Jemma repeated, reaching her hand out for him. For a breathless moment he stared at her, hazel eyes clouded with emotion she couldn’t begin to fathom. Just when she was sure he was going to take her hand, the door to the stairwell banged open a few floors down. Jemma lunged to grab Hunter’s hand and dragged him the first few steps. After he got over the surprise of her touching him and there being others in the stairwell, Hunter began moving under his own power, but Jemma still didn’t drop his hand. She didn’t trust him not to do anything stupid like throw himself over the railing as a distraction.

A horde of footsteps began thundering up after them, and Jemma risked a glance backwards, swallowing hard. It hadn’t taken Bakshi long to mobilize his forces, and the odds weren’t looking good for them making it out unscathed.

“Don’t shoot!” Hunter called, as if that would be any help. True, no one had fired their gun yet, but that was just because the stairway would cause ricochets and end up hurting someone unintentionally. Then again, collateral damage did seem to be HYDRA’s modus operandi, so maybe it was Hunter’s position as Bakshi’s right hand that was keeping them from becoming swiss cheese.

They reached the last flight of stairs and Jemma tugged the door open just enough to slip through and pull Hunter through after her. There was one long hallway between them and the entrance to the roof, and that was where things were going to get dicey.

“Run,” Hunter commanded, tugging his hand out of hers for the second time that day. “Don’t stop running, Jemma. Don’t look back.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Hunter shook his head, giving her the look she knew meant business. If he was planning on sacrificing himself, Jemma was going to kill him. 

She did as she was told, though, pounding down the hallway. She was halfway to the roof entrance when the voices of the guards behind them began echoing in her ears. Jemma tried to blot them out, only listening for Hunter’s voice. If Hunter spoke, she would listen.

A single shot rang out, and Jemma forgot everything she had been told, whipping around to see what had happened. Hunter batted the gun out of the hands of one of the guards, and he didn’t appear to be bleeding. She turned back to her goal and ran faster, legs and lungs already aching as she sprinted to the door. She flung it open and took the short flight of stairs up to the roof, and -

The roof was empty.

Jemma was about to give up hope when the ramp to the Quinjet lowered down. Right. Jemma should’ve remembered the cloaking technology, especially since it had been what Fitz wanted to work on when he was back to himself again.

Jemma jogged up the ramp, adrenaline still thrumming through her veins. It had seemed almost too easy - running up a flight of stairs and then down a hallway, and now she was safe again. 

“Simmons,” May said from the cockpit. “Strap in.”

“Hunter’s coming with us,” Jemma blurted out. She breathed out slowly, then added, “And hello, Agent May.”

“I know we’re waiting on Hunter, but you still need to be ready.”

“He told me -”

“I know the protocol,” May interrupted. “We’ll wait as long as we can.” She turned back to the instrument panel in front of her, and Jemma was left to stand awkwardly for a moment before shuffling over to one of the jump seats. She didn’t buckle herself in, not yet. Jemma wasn’t sure why she couldn’t - it wasn’t like she’d be able to grab a gun and save Hunter from the jaws of death. That wasn’t who she was, as much as she wished otherwise. Jemma hated just sitting, tapping her foot, knowing he was in danger and feeling powerless to do anything about it.

Time didn’t seem to be working right; she would swear the full ten minutes had passed and check her phone to find the clock hadn't even changed. Even when she was no longer in immediate danger her heart wouldn’t stop hammering against her ribs, and the only way she was able to keep herself from pacing was by impatiently tapping her foot.

She saw Hunter a moment before May did, running full-tilt from the rooftop door to the Quinjet’s ramp. May began raising the ramp even before Hunter was all the way up. It seemed unnecessary, since no one was following Hunter, but Jemma supposed given the circumstances an abundance of caution would be useful.

“Are you alright?” Jemma said, jerking out of her seat and closing the distance between herself and Hunter. He didn’t look to be injured, but she wanted to be sure. Asking him to strip with May in the front of the plane wouldn’t be prudent, but she could trust him to tell her the truth.

She could trust him to tell her the truth? That was a new thought, given everything that had happened between them.

“I’m fine.” Hunter glanced towards the front of the plane and raised his arm in a silent greeting to May. She lifted her hand in return, though she was busy with navigating them out of the city and towards the base.

“Are you sure?” Jemma asked, reaching for Hunter’s arm. She didn’t know why she believed his arm would be hurt, but he didn’t flinch away from her when she touched it, so she must’ve been wrong. She should’ve known that anyway, since he had raised and lowered it without a hint of pain, but Jemma knew sometimes her rational thought was disrupted when Lance Hunter was in close proximity. And he was _close_ , close enough that she could see the bead of sweat caught in his beard. Close enough that she could kiss him, if she really wanted to.

“Positive.” 

Jemma cleared her throat and took a step back, nodding. “Good.” Now was not the time to kiss him, not with May only a few feet away. Besides, they probably needed to talk first. Fighting, having a shag in an elevator, and escaping from an evil organization together wasn’t exactly a stellar prelude to the kind of kiss she wanted to give him.

“I’m glad you think so.” There was still an edge to his voice she didn’t recognize, but Hunter didn’t seem interested in talking about _anything_ , let alone their relationship. The tables had turned in that respect.

The silence in the back of the Quinjet was thick and sticky, and every time Jemma considered breaking it, Hunter glared at her like he knew what she was thinking. Jemma didn’t like it, and didn’t understand why Hunter was so _mad_.

When the Quinjet landed Hunter stormed off, leaving Jemma to walk into the base alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Jemma was whisked off to a debrief with Coulson not even five minutes later.

She did not _want_ to be in a debrief with Coulson. She wanted to finish her almost-conversation with Hunter, ending with the kiss he deserved to have.

He had been willing to give his life for her. Jemma had always known, somewhere, that he would - maybe even before they started their relationship. But he had proved it and she _loved_ him and being angry he hadn’t told her his true allegiance wasn’t going to change the past.

Like he’d said, she was never going to be able to forgive him if she didn’t give him a chance. She _wanted_ to give him a chance.

She sped past the lab, and paused. Fitz would want to see her.

But Fitz could wait. She wasn’t sure Hunter could.

She wound her way through the base, thankful Coulson had told her where Hunter was staying. He hadn’t asked any more questions, either, which meant there was probably a storm of them coming soon, but Jemma couldn’t care less. She had enough problems right now without worrying for future her.

She didn’t knock before going into Hunter’s room, but almost wished she had.

A half-full duffel bag sat on the bed, a pile of clothes beside it. They all looked like standard S.H.I.E.L.D. issue, plain black and grey. He was packing. He was _leaving_.

“Where are you going?”

“Well hello to you too, Jemma.” He didn’t turn around to look at her, which Jemma supposed she deserved, barging into his space without permission.

“Hello, Hunter. Now, where are you going?”

“Back to HYDRA,” he answered shortly.

Jemma’s blood ran cold. “You - you can’t go back, your cover’s blown!”

“ _Your_ cover’s blown, love. No one knows anything about me. All I have to do is mope about how sad I am my girlfriend was working for evil S.H.I.E.L.D. and how I can’t believe she pulled the wool over my eyes. Bakshi’ll be pissed for a while but eventually he’ll realize he doesn’t have anyone better than me and things will return to normal.”

“You stopped someone from shooting at me!”

“Before I technically knew you were S.H.I.E.L.D. I figure it’ll add some flavor, saying I wish I hadn’t.” Hunter still hadn’t turned to look at her, and Jemma wanted him to. This was a conversation they needed to have face to face. 

“Hunter…”

“What, Jemma?” he snapped, whirling around. She’d wanted to see his face, but not like this. Red rimmed his eyes and he looked a few seconds short of crying, even if none of it showed in his voice. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Get me the fuck away from you, so far away you’ll probably never have to see me again?”

She wasn’t the only angry one. And maybe he had a right to be angry, too - Jemma didn’t know.

“I don’t want to never have to see you again because you’re _dead_!”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to die.”

“You might! You keep assuming you know how Bakshi is going to react -”

“Because I’ve spent the last nine bloody months with the man!”

“But what about his boss? Or his boss’s boss?” she pressed.

“His boss is one of the heads of HYDRA, so his boss doesn’t have a boss.”

“That’s what I mean!” Jemma said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’re so blasé about being so close to some of the most dangerous people in the world, and you don’t seem to understand that there are people who care about you!”

“What people? _You_? Because newsflash, love, if you care about someone, you don’t toss them out the moment they make one decision you don’t agree with and only let them back in when you want an easy fuck!” Hunter took a step towards her, but it didn’t feel threatening. Instead something electric zapped through her chest, something Jemma wanted desperately to ignore until after they’d gotten everything out in the air.

“If you _care_ about someone you don’t send yourself on a suicide mission and get angry at them when they tell you not to go!” She stepped towards him, too, and the meter or so between them seemed too large. She wanted…

“If you’re expecting me to be waiting -”

“I don’t expect anything from you, Jemma. You made it _abundantly_ clear we were over,” he interrupted. “Just a shag, right?”

“We’re not over until you walk out that door,” Jemma said, pointing to the entrance to his bedroom. 

“What?”

“I am still _so_ pissed at you. But I - I realized the only reason it made me so _angry_ that you lied to me is because I loved you.” Jemma licked her lips nervously. “I _still_ love you. So much it hurts. And I…” She didn’t have anything else to say. What she had said already was probably barely coherent, but there was one easy way to get her point across.

So she closed the gap between them, and she kissed him.

Hunter went preternaturally still, and Jemma thought for a moment he was going to push her away. Instead his arms closed around her waist and he pulled her tight against him, mouth plundering hers.

He wanted her. She wanted him. They were back at S.H.I.E.L.D., they knew where their loyalties lay, and there was nothing saying they couldn’t be together.

Nothing except Hunter wanting to go back to HYDRA.

“Please don’t go,” Jemma gasped when they broke away. “Please.”

“Coulson -”

“Should know better than to send you back there,” Jemma finished, grabbing Hunter’s lip between her teeth and tugging. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll explain it to him. You can’t leave me.”

“Not with you looking at me like that I can’t,” Hunter agreed. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Look who’s talking,” Jemma smirked.

“Are you still angry?” 

“Yes, I am. Are you?”

“Yup, definitely,” he answered breezily. He didn’t seem to be bothered by his anger at the moment, though, and neither was she. It was nothing like the all-consuming rage she had first felt, easy enough to ignore.

“If we argue again we can have hate sex again,” Jemma suggested. The first time in the elevator was still going to be a subject of her dreams for a long while.

“Or we could save time by not arguing again and have sex anyways.”

“You see, I knew I liked you for a reason.” Jemma moved forward until Hunter’s knees hit the bed, and he laid backwards onto it, pulling her with him. Jemma reached out to knock the duffel bag to the floor, smiling.

“Jemma?” Hunter asked as she leaned onto him, lips skimming across his neck. “Is this… is this just because I’m convenient again?”

Jemma’s heart squeezed in her chest. She had never considered when walking away from Hunter it would niggle at his insecurities, just as he had probably never considered how lying to her would prey on hers. He hadn’t known about Ward, though, and she had literally _just_ had a conversation about love and convenience with him before telling him to get out and stay out.

“No, love,” she said, echoing his pet name. “It’s because I loved you even when we weren’t together. Even when loving you hurt.”

Hunter curled up just enough to press his lips against hers softly. “That’s what I thought.”

“But you needed to hear it,” Jemma surmised as he laid back down.

“I did,” he agreed. “And now I need to take your clothes off.”

“I think maybe that’s a want, not a need,” Jemma said even as she peeled off her shirt.

“No, it’s a need,” Hunter protested, reaching behind her to unhook her bra one-handed. “Unless you want to have sex with our clothes on, which I have to say, I’m all for, but -”

“Not now.” Jemma lifted her hips off Hunter’s to pull down her slacks, and allowed him to do the same with his jeans. His boxers hadn’t begun to tent yet, but Jemma knew she could fix that problem as soon as she was fully naked. She discarded her knickers along with her slacks, then helped Hunter rid himself of his shirt and undershirt, leaving him in boxers and her wearing nothing.

“We’ve never done this before,” Hunter said as Jemma pulled down his boxers. His cock was already beginning to fill, and she had no objections to helping it along.

“Done what?” she asked. As far as she knew, they’d done about every possible combination of genitalia and other body parts as they could - handjobs, blowjobs, rimjobs, anal, vaginal, and probably a few she was forgetting.

“Had sex. Like this,” he said, either unwilling or unable to articulate his point further.

“I think we have,” Jemma said, pausing fondling his cock so she could kiss him gently. “The night you had to leave to go to your meeting with Coulson.”

“Oh,” he whispered. “I thought that was just me.”

“It wasn’t.” She’d felt it too, the shift in the air. At the time she hadn’t appreciated it as much as she should’ve, but now she knew to savor it - the feeling of being loved, of being held.

“I want to be inside you,” Hunter murmured. “Now, Jemma.”

She didn’t miss the urgency in his voice, nor did she miss how her body responded, a rush of wetness gathering between her thighs. Jemma did as she was told, even if Hunter’s cock was only half-hard and it was more difficult to maneuver it into position. When she sank down onto him, he let out an appreciative groan, his hands reaching for her hips.

“Do these walls have soundproofing?” Hunter asked, voice terse.

“I hope so.” Jemma raised and lowered herself slowly, carefully, her thighs tensing deliciously as she hovered over him. “Because I intend on screaming.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hunter cursed. “Flip,” he said, curving one arm around her back before guiding them into opposite positions, him on top of her. Under their old circumstances she might’ve protested, but she was curious as to why Hunter had insisted on the change.

“I’m trying so hard, love,” Hunter gasped, burying his nose between her breasts as he thrust into her, his cock now fully hard. “Want to make this special but _God_ , Jemma, I need to hear you scream.”

“I don’t care about special,” Jemma said. They’d had special once and they’d have time to do it again. It had been too long since they’d been together, and now with him buried inside her, Jemma would only appreciate whatever lack of restraint he decided was necessary.

“Tell me to do it,” Hunter said, hips stuttering like he was trying to hold himself back. 

“Good boys fuck how they’re asked, Lance,” Jemma purred, reaching up to smooth her hand along the scrub of his stubble. “I’m asking you to fuck me into this bed until I scream, do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Hunter answered hoarsely.

Then he fucked her. The first motion was almost enough to make Jemma yell from pure shock, but then he settled into a rhythm and she wanted to scream for an entirely different reason. He pounded into her with a speed and steadiness she’d never known was possible. She drew her knees up so he could reach deeper within her, and Jemma’s eyes rolled back in her head. She didn’t have words for how amazing it felt to be the recipient of this onslaught of pleasure. His thumb circled her clit swiftly, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with practiced ease. From anyone else, it might have felt overwhelming, but from Hunter the overstimulation just meant _more_ of everything she needed.

“G-g… good boy,” Jemma stuttered out when her mouth could form words again. “H… h… har…”

She couldn’t finish the word but Hunter complied nonetheless, jackhammering into her so hard the spring on the bed creaked. If the headboard hadn’t been fixed to the wall it would’ve been hammering out a warsong, hard and fast and unrelenting.

Hunter came with a wordless grunt, but as promised Jemma screamed when she followed him over the edge, his name rough against her throat.

“Why,” Hunter said as he flopped down beside her, “have we never done that before?”

“Because someone never mentioned he can fuck like an animal,” Jemma laughed. She wasn’t going to be able to walk tomorrow, if the pleasant burn between her thighs was any indication. She was in firm agreement, though - they needed to have sex like that again. Not just quick and dirty, but the kind of raw, primal sex it was hard to admit she even wanted.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you that bad before,” Hunter murmured, rolling over so he could talk against Jemma’s neck. “Which is saying something, because that time in Bakshi’s office I was ready to cum just looking at you.”

“Ooh, that’s another idea for the list,” Jemma murmured. “You ever tried cumming untouched?”

“Once,” Hunter kissed her neck idly. “It took longer than I wanted.”

“So, five minutes?” Jemma teased.

“Shut up,” Hunter huffed. 

“I don’t plan to,” Jemma grinned, stroking a hand through his hair. She had a thing for his hair now, she decided. Maybe one day she’d be able to convince him to grow it out longer than a buzz. “You know, we have to talk about the other things eventually.”

“We do. I should probably go tell Coulson the mission is a no-go.” At least talking about their relationship was something they agreed needed to happen, unlike another conversation Jemma needed to have eventually. She wasn’t going to think about Fitz and letting him down gently when she was naked in another man’s bed, though.

“Are you at least going to clean yourself up first?” Jemma smirked, gesturing to his cock, sticky with cum and her juices.

“No, Jem, I was planning to walk through the base just like this!” Hunter huffed again, and he really shouldn’t have been allowed to be so adorable when doing it. “Hey, at least if the walls aren’t soundproof, he already knows.”

“Or maybe he thinks we’re having enthusiastic goodbye sex,” Jemma pointed out.

“Did you ever… tell him we fucked?” Hunter asked, still not making any move to get out of bed. “Because if not, and he heard us, the poor man’s going to be even more confused.”

“I thought you had,” Jemma admitted. And even if neither of them had told him, maybe Hunter coming out of her bedroom had been enough of a tip-off. Hopefully not, though - Jemma didn’t need her boss knowing that much about her private time.

Hunter snorted. “That man does not need to know anything about our sex life. I about died when you suggested making his name our safeword.”

“How did you _not_ start laughing in my face?” Jemma asked. She hadn’t even _thought_ about how different their safeword was in light of them both knowing Coulson. It was even more of a mood killer than originally intended.

“I’m good at what I do.” Hunter didn’t need to wink for Jemma to catch the full force of the innuendo.

“You are.” She stretched, one arm settling around his naked shoulders.

“Thanks for showing me your tits eventually,” Hunter said without warning. “They’re really nice.”

“Your cock’s nice, as well,” Jemma snorted. “If we’re just going to compliment each other’s body parts, you really should go and tell Coulson you’re not leaving. Maybe he’ll send somebody else in.”

“Or maybe we’ll stop pretending that knowing anything about HYDRA is actually going to help,” Hunter said. “Between the both of us I don’t think we uncovered even a fraction of a percent of their secrets. There’s just too many, buried too deep.”

Jemma wasn’t sure she agreed with that. She wanted to at least hope that everything she and Hunter had done the last few months was worth something. No mission was going to go completely as planned, no one was ever going to be able to discover everything. Jemma doubted they would never know all there was to know about HYDRA even if they managed to dismantle it; some people died with secrets. Others lived with them.

“We did some good,” she told Hunter. Even if they didn’t find everything there was to find, they had _tried_ , and that had to mean something. They both wanted to make the world a better place, and they had gone through hell for it. They were _still_ going through hell for it, because their relationship with each other would never be the same as it could’ve been without the secrets, lies, and Nazi propaganda.

“We did,” he said, turning his face up to kiss her sweetly.

They had been through hell, yes, but they had gotten out, and now was their chance to stumble through heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all they wrote! Thank you so much for making it through this story with me; it was one of the most challenging things I've written if only by virtue of knowing how few people would want to read it, but I'm so glad to finally have it finished and out in the world. If you want to keep up with what I'm doing next (hint: it involves a lot of rarepairs), feel free to follow me on [tumblr](https://bobbimorseisbisexual.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Thanks again,  
> Al


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